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1 Nothing Matters Too on Sat Jul 07, 2018 9:13 pm

Hika

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C-Rank
Hika wrote:Likely you're wondering how I got in this situation. I'd say it's a simple or long story, but it was not - is not. The events are complex despite what the surface of the matter might suggest. This massacre erupted in an instant, flourishing from no source any civilian or even political official could discern. Only three persons were needed to foist the world into confusion with this sudden upheaval. A Kage nowhere in sight - though the Sand seemed more than accustomed to that by now. One of its own operatives and two hailing from its supposed ally reduced the village to ash and glass.

But what am I telling you this for, eh? Seems an errand in near-comedic futility to explain things to something that's been watching the entire time.

Try and tell the others not to fuck everything up next time. 'Kay?

Gods, my head....

Gods. What....what's a god? Is it defined by the possession of that abstract thing called divinity? Or might it only have to do with the absolute power that can merit subservience equatable to worship? These streets....once bustling centers of life, now paved with shards and cinder, were the work of no god. I know I am mortal. By definition I cannot comprehend the divine. Whatever entities that wrought this wasteland are not deserving of power if they use it this way. Or perhaps I'm a naďve kid that can't comprehend their motives - even more likely, I'm so powerless to judge them that I oughtn't until I have the strength.

Sleeping in the ruins of the Sands' Domain was easier than attempting to live out of the desolation of this aftermath. It was likely the people. In uninhabited areas, thieves and those who would take everything from you for their own survival didn't exist, plain and simple. Not to mention fewer encounters that people might remember...


Hika wrote:I didn't remember at the time, as I had passed out from the heat some time earlier, on the outskirts of the village. One of them seemed to have spared me from that fate...to think that I owed my life to one of these people sickened me. Or did it give me hope? If they had let an innocent live, there could have been some glimmer of good within them, or even in their actions.

What about you? Would you have manipulated things to stop them? Were they wrong, or justified?

It wasn't pretty. The last time I'd been to the Sand in disguise I had a comfortable room, at the least. Now, the same building I deigned to stay in was collapsing in on itself. My simple linen shirt and slacks are becoming worn, close to sprouting holes. A roof is something I'm still lucky to have. It's a little over my head, really.

...oh-ho. Yes, I didn't see what I did there at first. Good catch.

Saddening, yet mind-bending at the same time. I keep trying to come up with reasons why someone would destroy an entire village without any regard - or so it seemed - for the ninja and civilians within. I'd heard a sizable amount made it out relatively unscathed thanks to the efforts of ninja present during the attack, but it did not leave me at ease. Who is so consumed with rage that the lives of those completely unaffiliated with it mean nothing? Is it self-righteousness? Or perhaps madness?

....mhmhmhm....hahahaha..... of course.

Of course it has to be one of you. You've got some twisted malcontents as your omnipotent peers, y'know that?

I'm so frustrated with how things are going I'm actually shaking, my legs pulled up against my chest so I can bury my head in the crevasse between. The verge of tears, really. This wasn't an accident. Not just the attack, but everything leading those carrying it out to act. This was made to happen. And I couldn't have been around to stop it or mitigate it in any way. Why...why can't we just leave each other alone!?


....oh, how entirely unexpected. Do you just like to mess with me?

Three figures stood at the doorway - only the light they blocked would tell. Of course, my ears were a bit inured to the raiders' toils in the background; I tried to block it out as best I could as I stayed in the side room. They'd go for the pantry first....

Right?


765

2 Re: Nothing Matters Too on Fri Jul 13, 2018 12:37 am

Takao

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x

The ruins of Sunagakure were a treasure trove of knowledge. Dilapidated and battered as they were, small morsels of sensitive information hid themselves well within the cracks and crevices of the wreckage, just waiting to be found by a scrupulous gaze. Within one of many basements that remained intact-- more or less-- from the destruction of the Hidden Sand did he find himself, staring at a wall covered in slight indentations that held a myriad of aged scrolls. He was apprehensive to even reach out toward one, lest the slightest current of air reduce the decrepit parchment to dust. He had used his time in the Wind Country to investigate various curiousities whose fable floated by his ear in passing. The word of an old breathing technique, akin to the mythical eight gates of legend, had caught his attention and lead to such an investigation within Sunagakure’s ruin. His search had thus far been fruitless, yet he had not given up on the hunt. He was far too stubborn.

Carefully, he plucked a scroll from its cubby and unraveled it. The parchment creaked as aged fibers unrolled, and his eyes spilled across, absorbing the contents briefly before putting it back. The process repeated several times, yet every scroll have him nothing worthwhile. But eventually his persistence did pay off; after a dozen or so scrolls had been shifted through, one in particular had caught his attention. The faded ink that stained the fiber of the parchment explained a vague concept that was well worth investigation, and thus after plucking it from its place upon the shelf, he overturned his arm and added another string to the seal formulae on the bandages wrapped around the appendage.

Takao turned and made way for the ladder that lead out of the battered basement. As his foot made contact with the third rung of the ladder, the brittle wood snapped, and he stiffly fell back down to the hard sandstone floor. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he reluctantly sat up and climbed back to his feet, staring at the defunct ladder.

“Great.” He murmured to himself, his onyx gaze rising to the closed hatch. With a frustrated huff, he quickly resigned to the idea that a peaceful exit was no longer on the menu. The tall basement ceiling was well out of reach, and the slight ember of frustration sparked within his core from the minor fall had turned quickly built up the desire for explosive release of pent-up aggression.

Takao’s head tilted back and a breath inflated his lungs. As his lungs deflated and this breath was exhaled, the chakra that built within them ejected a large burning orb of flame. The foundation rumbled and shook from the force of the collision as the flames broke through the enervated floorboards and opened the basement up to the desert heat. Takao, who had leapt through the flames and landed with a heavy thud on the freshly opened ground floor, coughed and wafted the smoke from debris and flames. As his gaze adjusted to the newfound light and he emerged from the cloud of debris, his eyes settled upon the startled visage of three figures. Each of them was identical to the other, their weathered faces twisted and contorted into cruel grimaces and snarls. In each of their stubby hands, their fingers gripped and squeezed on large pairs of shears, not unlike what one might use for gardening. But their most startling feature was by far their height, or apparently lack thereof. The trio of mirrored images boasted comically short stature, measuring in what at first glance seemed to be halfway to five feet from four.

“Woah-- the hell--” Takao said, struggling to find the right words amidst his jarred thoughts.

“I didn’t know the circus was in town.”

“Fock orf ya tall cunt, ah? Just hand over yer dosh and we won't smash ye.” One of the three barked. Takao forced out his laugh in the form of a loud snort and lifted a hand to his side, which did precious little to abate their growing ire for the shinobi.

“Oh hell, my sides!” He said, his hand lifting to wipe the slightest hint of moisture from the corner of his eye.

“What backwoods hole did you three goblins crawl out of? Do your parents know you’re out here?” Takao snorted out his retort, barely able to form words amidst his overwhelming desire to laugh.

“Hoh, now tha tall cunt is avin’ himself a giggle. Whadaya say boys? Ow’s about we learn ‘em why ye don’t fock wid’a Slumdog Slingers?” Spoke the same gnarled man as before, earning grunts of agreeance from his identical companions and a powerful, wheezing laugh from Takao. He had practically crumpled to the floor from his laughter,

“The fuckin’ Slumdog Slingers, are you kidding me? What’re you gonna do? Kick my shins? Go scuttle back to the cave you troglodytes slithered out of before I pick you up by the ankles,” Takao said, pointing toward the one in the middle that had been speaking. “And swing you around like a big flail to knock the other two out.”

TOTAL WC

872

3 Re: Nothing Matters Too on Fri Jul 20, 2018 1:03 am

Hika

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C-Rank
I'm not going to say I'm impressed.

In fact, I've dealt with quite a few burglars and vagrants since this...event. I don't even know what descriptors do it justice - or injustice might be the better term. I couldn't say - my own grasp of what happened is so narrow and vague that I don't want to even begin to make something so weighty as a moral call. When any of this might not be real, it's difficult to try to put in the effort of making that call anyhow - what's the point of judging something that doesn't exist? Or perhaps better, why judge those here when they're not responsible for their actions, by and large?

What I needed to focus on at this point was survival. A three-on-one match was not in my favor; I'm not the kind of guy to deal with that kind of threat, I can scarcely handle one. At any rate - it wasn't a good idea to stay in one place with guys like this. Looters could scour the place in less than a minute to find any valuables or sustenance, and I would be so much easier to suss out.

So I'd have to make the first move....bold was not my middle name, but neither did that describe my fighting style. Within the cabinet I had spirited myself into, the pitch-black meant that I could see through other means without worry. Closing my eyes, a new scene appeared before me - the foyer. The three had barely begun entering, and ----

The floor?

Oh, no. The floor.

Okay, now I'm not impressed. Fearing for my life? Bingo.

A thunderous reverberation shook my sightless body in sync yet disproportionate to what I was seeing in the next room over. A man emerged from the ensuing rubble.... seemingly in an equal amount of confusion. I was lucky that the stone walls were brittle enough to be broken by whatever demolished the floor; hearing was a significantly easier task all of a sudden.


“I didn’t know the circus was in town.”

Escalating the situation. Fantastic.

“Fock orf ya tall cunt, ah? Just hand over yer dosh and we won't smash ye.”

Well, status confirmed. My initial guess was on-point.

“What backwoods hole did you three goblins crawl out of? Do your parents know you’re out here?”

He has some serious balls to say that to these sorts of guys. Numbers weren't everything, so the old masters said....but they were out here.

“Hoh, now tha tall cunt is avin’ himself a giggle. Whadaya say boys? Ow’s about we learn ‘em why ye don’t fock wid’a Slumdog Slingers?”

An....organized gang? This spelled more trouble than even I thought - it was bad enough to have the lone wolves scavenging, but planning and even group identity were more dangerous than one might think.

“The fuckin’ Slumdog Slingers, are you kidding me? What’re you gonna do? Kick my shins? Go scuttle back to the cave you troglodytes slithered out of before I pick you up by the ankles and swing you around like a big flail to knock the other two out”

A set of distortions might infringe on the man's view of his diminutive would-be assailants - five orbs, to be exact. I couldn't be sure whether this guy was serious about his threat or if it was a front to scare them off without fighting. Descending on the two flanking the middle - without sound, only a tingle to the spine, - and chaos ensued as I smiled to myself. The man to his left would feel his right arm jerk up to the right, slapping his cheek if only in slight. The one on the right was not so lucky, his legs giving out as his arms flailed in profligate fashion - the shears he brandished carved through his companion's right shoe and foot with ease.

"W-What r' ye two dolts doing? Tryin' to off me, thinkin' on splittin' the loot two ways 'stead'a three?"

Not expected, but not anywhere near a suboptimal outcome. My voice would ring in the head of that solitary soul, distracting him from the set of five orbs behind him -

I'm here to help. Please don't wreck the house.

735 | 1500

230/240:
Name: Lightning Release, Spasm Attacks | 雷遁・発作 Raiton - Hossa
Canon/Custom: Custom.
Rank: D.
Type: Supplementary | Nenjutsu
Element: Lightning.
Range: Orbs are created within 5m, reaching up to 15m.
Specialty: Iryōjutsu.
Duration: Orbs last up to 5 posts. Each spasm is Instantaneous-1 post.
Cooldown: Duration +2 posts.
Description: This technique involves the user creating 6"-diameter spherical projectiles within 1m of themselves; they can create and shoot up to 5 of these at 5m/s in an attempt to hit the targets. The orbs can stop in place and re-'fire' after one second.

These projectiles appear as round distortions in the air, are barely visible, and otherwise intangible and inaudible. They can't be detected except visually by C-1 Perception, or tier-3 Perception of the user's rank (whichever is lower).

After being struck by one of these spheres, the user can cause a victim's peripheral nervous system to begin randomly firing at their mental command. The resulting spasm can be as small as an opening and closing of the hand or a 1" shift of a limb, or as large as a complete swing or kick; it might last for a split moment or endure for multiple seconds. The user decides which body part (usually a limb) spasms and at which times (once per hit with an orb); the person on the receiving end gets to decide in what manner this technique affects them - how and how much within the stated parameters.

Adaptability:
You can reduce two of the following to raise the remaining one.

The range can be reduced to 5m or increased to 40m.

The number of spheres created by the technique can be reduced to 2 or increased to 10.

The speed can be reduced to 1m/s or increased to 15m/s.

Name: Body-Soul Transmission Wave | 照霊波椎 Terureipashī
Canon/Custom: Custom.
Rank: E.
Type: Supplementary | Nenjutsu
Element: None.
Range: 1000m+ (See Description)
Specialty: Iryōjutsu | Genjutsu
Duration: Passive.
Cooldown: Passive.
Description: A passive ability that extends one's natural bioelectric field. Doing so allows the user to pick up on the frequencies of the bioelectric fields of those they've already noticed. Once they find a target in this manner, this technique allows the user to manipulate the hair cells of the inner ear and the nerves connected to them, as well as the auditory cortex of the temporal lobe. By doing so, they can 'speak' directly into the minds of others, as if they were part of their internal monologue. Returned communication is interpreted by patterns of interference in the remaining bioelectric field, and this can relay thoughts in much the same way to the user or anyone else they designate within range. This range can also change to be centered upon the point that the user displaces their senses using the "ESP" technique.

While others that communicate via this 'telepathy' use their own voice, the bearer of this ability can change who any of those people (including themselves) are perceived as, at will. While sound is not actually perceived by the eardrum and cochlear fluid, speech patterns as well as other factors can differentiate people within minds. While the artificial neural signals can't be entirely blocked out, they don't disrupt focus or thought processes in the form this jutsu has them take.

Once the user sees or otherwise detects a target within range, they can use this ability targeting them even if they later lose track of them. However, this function, or being able to receive return messages, does not enable the user to detect targets' location - the use of this ability is purely communicative.

The range of this ability grows with the rank of the user, increasing to 2.5 kilometers at C-rank, 5 kilometers at B-rank, 10 kilometers at A-rank, and 20 kilometers at S-rank.

Sub-Ability:
Getting That Look I'm Going For | 得す照築 Asutechiku

By allowing one's truest intents to show through a telepathic link, the user can innocuously manipulate the senses of those within range, perhaps even including themselves. Such illusions can only dictate what the user is currently feeling, or perhaps their own view of themselves at a given moment. Via conscious effort, the user could also create other sensory effects that emanate or center upon themselves.

These hallucinations, while wide-ranging and endless in scope, cannot hide something from those experiencing them, nor can they create or do anything that might be considered advantageous in a battle or other similar situation. (Effects that could be construed as such, e.g. to appear more threatening, are rendered ineffective unless the other player decides otherwise.)

This technique's drawback is that once the user links their intent with another's mind, they are also susceptible to viewing those intents from their targets as well; this technique is as such a two-way illusion.

Because the user's intent is transmitted via bioelectric waves to directly create illusions in the brain's sensory centers, those that are affected don't appear to be under genjutsu.

Name: Alleged Distant Images | 謂絵鬆非違 Ī Esu Pī
Canon/Custom: Custom.
Rank: E.
Type: Supplementary | Nenjutsu
Element: None.
Range: 25m+ (see description).
Specialty: Genjutsu | Iryōjutsu
Duration: Passive.
Cooldown: Passive.
Description: Reduces chakra pool maximum by 10. This ability entails the use of reverberations upon one's personal bioelectric field to replicate sensory input. At the start of each post, the user must decide whether or not they wish to project their senses; if they do, they choose a point within range; if they're attempting to track something (other than another living being or something on their person) they can also anchor their point of reference to it, even if it moves while within range.

By concentrating their electroreception at that point and tying its feedback to a specific area of the brain, they can detect fluctuations in the bioelectricity and correctly correlate it; they can thereafter correctly construe it as data about the surroundings - a true Extra-Sensory Perception. However, this is at the cost of shutting down input from the user's own body in relation to the type of  sensory information they collect; receiving visual information, for example, causes the user to become blind with regard to what their eyes could see.

However, this information does not directly process into that sense's medium, and is abstract 'data'. The other part of this ability is a self-cast illusion, allowing the user to translate that data into a simulation of what they detect - their occipital lobe might create images in their mind, allowing them to see remotely even while their eyes are blinded.

As the user ranks up, this ability increases in range and the number of senses that can be displaced: Two senses and 50m at C, three senses and 80m at B, four senses and 200m at A, and all five senses and 400m at S.

This ability only displaces the location where the user senses from; it alone grants no ability to see through physical objects, stealth or other techniques, or to see chakra or any such thing.


____

4 Re: Nothing Matters Too on Sun Jul 22, 2018 8:03 pm

Takao

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i’ll get my SWWOOOOOORD for you danny

Takao’s laughter was interrupted by their quarrels with one another, brought on by another force in which Takao could neither see nor was he immediately aware of. Their squabble upon piercing one’s foot with the other’s shears were largely drowned out, half from disinterest and half from the appearance of off distortions that he couldn’t quite see too well. With brows knit close together in growing ire, he had arrived at the assumption that their quarrel with one another was a ruse, and the distortions were akin to WInd Release techniques in their intangibility.

“You three-foot nothings aren’t gonna get the drop on me with stupid tricks like that.” Takao grunted, the leather of his gloves creaking as hands balled into fist. He had only taken a handful of steps forward before a distinct voice rung out in his head. As it spoke, requesting that the house not be damaged and that it was merely there to help, a myriad of irate voices joined into the symphony in his head, practically screaming into his ear had they been physical beings.



D̸̹̙̓̇̋̉̌͝͠͝O̴̹̳͇̥͐̆̐̂̑͆͝ ̴͚̌̐͑̑̈͆N̷̤̺͙̮̱͓̾͋͛͑Ơ̷̫̩̠̭̺̈́̾̊̈́̉̈́T̶̢̛̪͛̓͆̋̌ ̶̡͔͈̮̥̲̈̉̚̚L̸̜̔̃̍̌̌I̵̫̯̩̮̱͛̿͂͜S̴̛͈̩͔̯̏̐̊͆͗T̸̡̗̟̲̈̎͘Ḕ̷̡͙̰̠̙̓̌͆͘Ṋ̷̢̣̖̪̂̒̐̈͂͠ ̴̭̲̺͓̥̭̮̾̈́̂͛͘ͅŢ̶͙͓̩̰̮͛̔̎͜Ơ̶͚̭̤̄̆͂͆̽̂ ̶̯̘̜̟̱͌͌͐T̵͈̉̍̔̋H̵̖͕̦͖̜͙̒̍͝E̸̢̜̱͂͒̄M̵̢͍̜͇̖͓͈̈́̒̓̄͂̿̾̕,̶͓̠̟̊̀͂́ ̴̞̭̠̺̏̀O̷̦̫͈̊̀͊͆̂͘B̶̭̝̆E̷̹̓̈́͌̾̀̀̚͜͜͝Ŷ̴̱̭̱̭͓̙̄ ̷̺̘̊͝Ų̵̙̖͈̖̳̎̄̉̎̃Š̸̡̤̹̲̰̓ͅ.̷̨̥̔̓͛͊̀̌͝ ̵̹͇̮̫̣͕͊͌͒̀͂̅͊͜͠ͅB̵̙̻̤͙͔̠̃̆̃͒͆̇Ȕ̴̙̖͉̬̮̖̹̈͒̏͂̔R̵̠̻̃̉̏̃̾͑N̴̛̹̬̝͈̣̏̒͊̇̈ ̴̨͕̫̌̅͗̈͒͒̄Ẽ̵̼̙̃́̐̌͑̕͜V̴̱̯̄̌́̕͠Ę̷̭͎̭̎̿R̶̡̪͛̌̔Y̶̧͙̰͋͋̏̈́͛̕T̵̪̭̫̰̳̲̃Ȟ̸̥̰̲̠̜͎͌͐̕Į̷̣̗͍͇͚͊̆N̷̳͐G̴̫̼̬̈́̆̀̍̏͋͜ ̴̭̰̓̓D̵̨̩͇͈̜͉̯͆͑̽͛̔̌̈́̄O̶͉̥̣͕͔̫̒̈̌͑̔͝ͅW̸͕͔̙̠͚͂̔̈́̓̉̋͘Ņ̷̛͔͈̘̤̗̣̑̾̂͠.̷̥͈̱̘̥̼̄̔̃̈́̇̽́͒



A guttural cry of pain caught in his throat as his head immediately began to throb, pounding against his skull with debilitating might. His hand rose to the side of his head, loosely gripping his hair as his eyes refocused on the three squabbling Devito-esque siblings with newfound rage.

“Get the FUCK out of my head!” He growled sharply, the soles of his boots stomping against the aged wooden floorboards as he resumed his advance toward them. Each step send a vibration to his head, which only made the growing headache worse, and as a result angered him further as the eruption of voices continued. Black eyes instinctively flooded with chakra and his vision darkened, leaving only three-- no, four-- signatures of heat in his immediate parish.

The three seemed to grow aware of the change in both demeanor and approach, yet their distractions amidst one another prevented them from acting immediately. As Takao’s advance slowed and he stood before one of the three, his glowing eyes and slitted pupils sneered down at them, overflowing with almost debilitating ill intent. Takao’s right leg pulled back and swung forth in a fast and powerful arc, colliding with one of the three brothers that had the mind to raise his arms in a futile attempt to defend himself. Takao carried through with the kick and punted the small man through the far wall like a football. His momentum carried the man through the decrepit wood and sandstone, although his speed had reduced considerably as his rotund body rolled across the wooden floors. He finally came to a stop in front of a large wardrobe, groaning in and out of consciousness.

Takao’s gaze zipped to the next and pierced him with the infuriated gaze. It was clear that punting one of their brothers hadn’t done much to assuage his fury, and more indulgence of an outlet was necessary. He grabbed the leftmost of the two by the scruff of his shirt collar and lifted him from the ground. Takao’s arm swung in a wide arc and carried the small yet hefty man with it, until his grasp released and the unfortunate soul was sent careening through one of the dilapidated walls. Each new hole broken into the walls made the building’s foundation shake and rumble.



B̷̘̜̫̣̰͓̫̹̪̈̏̽͑Ṷ̶̧̻͈̤̮̩̞̎̏̇̕͜.̷̘͓̈́̑̉͛͋͊R̶̫̟͗͛̈́N̵̹̼̩̝̐̏́͛ ̸͇̪͖̟͇͕͒͑̄̎Ȩ̵̟̪̰̻̟̣̖͔̌͐̈́V̷͇͍̈́̏͒̐͗̋͜.̶̧̣̙̬͈̟̭̈́̔̀̅͗̆͒̃̕̚͠E̸͕̊̇̈́̈́̅̆̅̌Ŗ̶̩͍̮̦̭̿́̂̋̉̋͒̑̚͝.̸̘̩̲̪̣̮͚̘͇̈́Ẏ̶̩̜̅̓͝T̶̩͔̈̀͑͊̉͛́.̶̭͍̰̜̀͑̇͗͛̋͆͂̕H̵̠̫̞̘̗̮̳̙͍̟̞͑͠Ì̴̠͉̻̱͊͘.̵̢̟͗N̴͈̭̯̳̣̭̒́͗̍̈́̓̈͝G̵̨̠̺̜̪͖̘͉͒̅̇́̚͜ ̸̢̹̞̞̖̆̇͛̔̑̾͑̏̑͘͝D̸̝̘͎͉̙̻̫̈́̇̀̔͒̐͌̚ͅO̵͇̔̉.̶̡̮̻̮̰̜͓͍͊̅̃̿͐̊̏͐͂̓͝W̸̛͇̦̺̊̊̅̈́̈̓̊͛͆͘N̵̛̹̞͔͔̟͉͕͔̦̼̎́̎̏̈̃̒ ̸̯̲̘̪͖̲̟̜̟͆̊͂̀͜͝T̸̹̫̬͙͍̰͖̲̝̈́̈͑͑͒̋̚Ǒ̷̼͈́͊̎͋̐̅̉̍̚̚ ̴̨̰͖̌͜A̵̢̝̪̲͉̪͊̈̇̑S̸̡̭̠͛̆̋́͗́̓̍̇̈́͌H̶̨͚̝͕́̈́́́͒̉͌.̸̝̣̊̊̅̒͘̕͝



One remained and became the sole subject of Takao’s ever-growing anger. The appearance of the foreign out-of-body voice had thrown his own subconscious voices into a frenzy, and the pain that accompanied their intolerable volume left his head throbbing with intense pulses. This pain showed in his burning eyes and twisted expression, all of which were directed at the last of the three, who was distraught at either sibling that had been thrown in various directions. He slowly backed away as Takao stepped closer, and tripped over a stray piece of debris. As Takao stood above him, he quickly scuttled to his feet and haphazardly rushed into the room in which the wardrobe and his unconscious brother was located, tripping again over misplaced rubble.

TOTAL WC
+767
1,639

5 Re: Nothing Matters Too on Tue Jul 24, 2018 10:20 pm

Hika

avatar

C-Rank
I wanted peace. I would have been fine if the three of them had looted the place and moved on. Yet, that wasn't possible, certainly not alone. Nowhere in this place could I have hidden without them finding me sooner or later, and
You might know what would've happened if they'd sealed my escape and caught me. My main objective had been only to distract them long enough to escape, but this -

I hadn't thought this through. A man that could destroy the foundation of a well-built house like the one I'd chosen was not a being to be trifled with. His strength almost inhuman, he flicked aside the Slumdog Slingers as if they were mere handheld objects, not even worth a proper beating. He seemed jovial and laid-back enough when he had begun his taunting, but my merest mental contact had thrown him into...this -

This was my fault. His obvious wincing, the gritting of his teeth, the primal scream that escaped him as he closed his eyes tight. And upon their meeting with light once more, they weren't the onyx orbs that I'd seen earlier. No, a sphere of smolders is what I saw, my sight-beyond-sight revealing to me the extent of my folly. This wasn't normal - people had reacted poorly to my mind-to-mind contact before, but never to this extent.


Hika wrote:I'm sorry. I didn't mean... I didn't want this -

This was one of the few things that you all can't control, and look at what I went and did. Kind of ridiculous, isn't it? Ironic, maybe, but also in a sense completely expected. H....hahaha.

I'm such a fool.

Embers beneath my feet. The crooks of my knees accrued more sweat than one could reason, even in a confined space in the Land of Wind. This -

This was his mind. A tumult of single-minded inferno. This is what plagued him. Did I.... was this my doing?

My orbs overlapped with his form as they - meager in comparison - entered his nervous system. This was all I could do to save myself. The threat here was no longer the trio of brothers, but the man who dispatched them in less time than I could fully process it. It wasn't his fault. This wasn't him. Whatever I'd done, I needed to fix.


Hika wrote:Well...I'm impressing even myself. Maybe that means you impress me too. I normally suffice it not to meddle in people's affairs and leave it at that....

But I want to help.

I don't know if I'm working with or against you.  I don't know if I caused this or if this is your doing. However -

No one deserves this kind of pain.

No one deserves the full brunt of his ire, either. Not even this Slum Dog.

I burst out of the cabinet as the other victim approached, my hands in the air. I didn't even know if fixing this was an option I had. "Gods", what kind of subjective morality am I falling prey to? I usually think that nothing is inherently good or bad...

The embers became an arson as those flames licked my skin, the air itself choking me with its heat. My eyes, holding back reflexive tears, glimpsed a dark sky flecked with glowing orange and red.

Those utterances, this expression, what I can feel right now - they bring forth emotions in me I can't put into logical terms. Sickness with myself might describe it, or responsibility despite not agreeing to anything.

There are certain irrationalities I am perfectly content with accepting.

And whatever I could do, I would.

Standing before the approaching figure easily a head taller than me, no doubt built for the combat he so easily exercised against the men who threatened his life but half a minute ago, I could not help but allow my breath to shake. My hands clutched at the fabric of the sides of my slacks, creating new holes in the already-thin fabric, and I made my best attempt at keeping my face anything but contorted in fear. I couldn't say what I looked like, my vision having returned to my own head at that moment.

I can't form the words to describe this man -

but my gut tells me this is the end.

If this is some sort of atonement, go ahead. I can only try my best, and if that is not enough, I'll pay one way or another.


"H...hello. I apologize."

I bowed deeply for a moment, slowly raising my head.

785 | 2285


____

6 Re: Nothing Matters Too on Wed Jul 25, 2018 10:01 pm

Takao

avatar



𝌊

The ring in his ears and the howl of voices amidst flames in his head were as constant and unwavering as the stone-cold gaze locked upon the last of the three brothers. His eyebrows furrowed, his nose scrunched up, and his clenched teeth bellowed smoke from within. To any onlooker, it was clear that his intentions did not bode well for the subject of his sudden and explosive ire.




Ḑ̸̩͚͍͙̫̱͂͑̈́͐͊̎̉̐͛̄̚O̵͓̟͚͈̣͎̞͉̮͑̅̐̓̊͘ ̴̧̯̪̹̃̆́̐͒̿͒̽̾̿̈́͌͜͝͝Ṇ̸̞̗̼͆̀̆̀͆̿Ơ̵̧͈̼̰̻̪͛̃̎͌T̵̨͍̲̙̫͔̝̬̎͐̿͆̽ ̷̨͍̠̼͕͚̬̭̙̘̤̬̰̓̿̐̉̀̒͌̋͗́͑̋̍͌̚L̶̠̊͌̿͆̋̏͑̅̈́̃͋̀̕͝͝E̵̺͚̲̹͉̬̫̻̯͔̩̠̘̓́̍̌̓̆̊̓͘̕͘͝Ţ̴̲̯̣̯͔̺̦̤̝̞͖̞̪͊ͅ ̵͉̰̹̠̳͉͎̪̪̯̍̈́̓̐̑̕Ḩ̶̼͍̜̳́̊̚̚I̴̡̧̖̦͖͚̜̽̏̏̇͊͂̌͜M̸̛͚̞̫̜̣̓͆̋̽̾̌̕̚ ̸̅̃̂̀͂̀̐̃̊ͅI̸̢̲͕͙̣͍̤̱̦͐̿̽͑̆͑͋̎̚ͅǸ̵̪̳͉̯͔̩̤͖̘̈́̔̅̈́̚ͅ.B̷͉̝̼̝̰̙̃̊͗̾͒͠/̶̧̺̟͚̲̩̤̬̜̤̘̀̄̃̓͘Ų̵̨̟͍̞͎̬̪̲̩̜̩̩̞̹͐̎̂͆̽͑͆̅̈͛͂̈͠/̷̧̢̼͖͕̲̯̘̩̝̰̠͑̑̋̊̊̎̐͊͊̅͝͠͝R̵̛̰̼͇̺̲̪̋̅͊̓̽̋͂̑̏͝͠?̷̧̛̰̩̺̦͔̍̀̆̄̊̈́̐̎͝Ṇ̷̛͋̈̈̔̐̿̓̈́͒̄̐ ̴̢̲̱͕̥̫̟̑̎͒̐̊̊̈́̐ ̶̢̧͕͓͚͉̻̞̟̫͚̞̮̇͌̔͂͜͠͝ͅÈ̴̡̨̝̦̟̗̝̽́̿̂̊̈́͛̆̿͜͝͝o̷̪̟͚͉͉͊̀̆̎͜V̴̛̙̭͇̦̣̻̩̻̟̏͛̆p̴̡̧̛̤̭͓̫̦͔̦̠̹̤͉̭̉͋͊͒̄͘͝͝E̷̡̢̡̲͙̟̯̰͖͔͙͍͒͐̒͊͜r̶̰̓̅̾̾͊͒͐̐̇Ÿ̷̪͓͎̖̺̠̹͕͉́͒̌͌̒̅ͅͅt̴̼̤͔͎͎̱̘̤͎̩̱̖̏͐-̴̠̰͑͑̀͋/̴̡̤̮̱̗̠͖̹̫̜̝͇̄̈́͝H̷̡̢͉͍̯͍̩̪̹̻̝̮̞͉̆̂̇͂͛͛͌̋̆͊͂̕͘-̶̬͇̤̝̞͖̽̊̉̑̍̍̒̍̈̀̉̊͘Ỉ̴̧̮̩̦̣̱̙̍̋̀̀̔͌̑̚͠/̷̠̤͉͙̩͙̦̪͚͚͕̲̰̂̈́̊͒̀/̷̗̿̄͌͛̓͗̽̋̕ň̶̢̖̰͖̤̰̘̠̻̻̮̭̖̙̜̌̎͛̓͑̿͘G̷̛̲͚̲̲͓͖̠̘̺͓̫͗̔̎͜ ̵̧̡̮̯̠͉̣̠̺͓͕̘̝̑͗͌́͗͆̒̓̌̒͝ͅD̸̼͉̝́̓͒͛̒̽̈̈́͘͘͜͝/̸͍͔̰̽͗̌̈́͊̀͘ͅ/̸͙̺̟̀̒̂Ǫ̸̢͖͇̖̠̯̻̜̫̬͍̘̍͘/̸̝͇͙͓͉̭͑̋̔͗̈́̅̋̕͜͝͝͝͝w̸̡̠̻̻̦̬̪̥̭̗͛̂̂̎̈́͑̅̀͂͂̚͝=̴̨̛̼̾̋̀N̸̡̡̬̣̠̝̘͕̦̫͇̠̂́̿̒̕ N̷͚͔̥̬͖̭̦̤̖͙̭̙̖̎̂̓̈̄̾̆̑̆̚̚ͅͅ-̴̧̖̦͎̣̫̟̠̈́̑͆̇͆̀̄͑̽̓͊͆̂͜͝Ơ̶̧̧̗͚̭̣͖̠̱̦̣͝͝ͅ-̵̥͉̲̳̤̮̯̹͂̆̽͘ͅW̷̨͉͖͍̜̰̠͕̖̳̤̅̈̏̊̓̋͠




Irregularities in the plumes of smoke that gushed from his tightly clenched maw suggested that his breathing itself had grown arrhythmic, laboured even, as a result of the powerful throbs of pain that pounded against his skull like an overzealous drummer. With clouded judgment, the slivers of his own thought that managed to whimper through the roar of louder, more intrusive thoughts urged him forward. Not to burn anything per se, but to remove the perceived source that had thrown his psyche into a frenzy. Of course, there was one incredibly efficient manner of doing so.

His right foot slammed down on the weak wooden floorboards and his chin dipped. The smoke subsided, and a full breath of air inflated his lungs to capacity. As his chest rose, chakra conquered the oxygen within the organs and turned life-giving air to life-taking flame within his body. Takao’s chin rose and his lips parted to exhale, displaying tinges of light sparked in the back of his throat as the flames traveled up.

Just as the flames were about to leave his body, the sound of cabinet doors opening rang in his ears, and his attention jerked to the side to see the figure he had noticed hiding within now showing themselves. Having been so preoccupied with removing the perceived threat to his sanity, he had entirely forgotten about the fourth, and the surprise of their appearance forced his exhale into a sharp inhale. The flames were extinguished as they traveled down, and replaced by thick black smoke that he vomited out instead. Takao’s teary-eyed gaze brought on by the unexpected fit of coughing and heaving, locked upon the newcomer’s glowing visage. The roar of voices in his head dulled if only for a brief moment as his conscious thought examined the situation. But his salvation was a mere tease, and the boy spoke in a voice he immediately recognized.




Ĝ̵̜̝̐̄̄-̵̡̤̦̠̠̥͉̠͒̌̎̀̋̎͊Ė̵͇̗̀͛̅̀̾͌͠o̵̧̝͉͚͖͈̗͍̭̝͐̍̂̍̈́̎͑̌̋̌̕̕Ţ̶͉̜̠̦̽̂̅̓͊͛̕̕͝͝͝͝ ̶̛̰̟̖̤͒͗̈͒̓͗͘͘̕͠͝͠O̶͍͓̜̝̔̂͒̈́̈́̐̋͝ͅ/̵̧͈̺̲͓̩̭͓͚̌͑̚/̴̭͔̗͍̠̜̗͉̖̹͐̿ų̴̢̹͎͇̣̌̽̄Ţ̵̨̡̹͚̬̘͚̺̼̳͇̗̺̼͑͆̓͗̚ ̴̧̼̮̇̽̓̓͌̓͘ ̸̦̊̈̉̿̄͗͊͝G̶̥̎-̸̹͓̖̙̬̳̠͕̣͍̠͇̬̀͛͝ͅḙ̷͎̳͓́̄̿̔͗͒͋͌̾͌̌̕̕͝Ȏ̴̥͇̝͓̙͙͐̑̿̈́̀̚͝T̵̡̨̛̛͍̬̖̥͔̱̘̖̈́̓̉̿͑͗̀̓́̓̅̕̚ ̵̝̗̥̭̘̼͚̟̬̥̮̺̍̾́̂̋̈́͜͝͠ͅƠ̴̘̭̫̩̦͐̿̃̀̎̔̃́̾/̵̺̙͑̈/̸̙̥̤̠̭͈̜̺͍̈́̃ų̴̢̛̳͎̘͕̲͓̪͇̖͓̭̽̀̆̈́̊̉̀͊̈́̋͜T̸̨̮̲͙̆̃͒̎́̔́̈́̉̉̇̇̉͘͝ ̵̞̲͈͉͓͍͍̹̽͆͋̓ ̷̻̻̝̗͉͎̜̖̭̮̘̦͋͗̾́̾̿̿̈́̎̇͌̓ͅG̷̢̡̨͚̮̜̰̠̱͕̲͇̘̼͐̈́̓̑͑̑̊́̒͘͝͠ͅ/̶̛̼̩̳̟̲̄͋̀̌̊̽̇̐͑̚ͅȨ̶͍̰̉̓̉̈̓̆́̄͆̒̈́͝/̵͍̗̣̞͇̜̘̺͖͕̲̩͈̒̓͐̍͜͝͠/̸̲̀̅̄͊͋̊͒͑̊̌̈́͘͝͝õ̴̱̏̐͋T̵̪̼̺͔̻̳͖̠͖͉̹͕͗̀͌́͊̈͐̇̚͠ ̴̢͕̼͔͉͖̣̻̪̗͓͓͕̫̮͋̉̈́̉́́͊̽͗͝O̷͚͝/̷̨̹̬̖̑/̶̢̬͈̩̞̙̤̻̩̞͍̙̰̆̀̾̋́͐͊̽̌͑ư̷̢̺̙̦̠̼̝̻̗̳͚̹̔̽̏͋̎̓̃͘Ṱ̴̹̄̓́̋̾̄̐͘͝ ̷̧̨̢̲̩̪͍̖̌͜͠ ̵̧͙̯͕̣̐͜Ǵ̸̢̡̡̨͔̬͜-̶̡͕̣͉̝͔͙̞̥̳͖̪̺̳̻̈́̿͝E̷̢̱̥͇̭̩̙̩̲̳̩̗͔͉͑́̆̒̃̓͂̄̊̂͛̈͘/̸̛̲̠̦͓̏̈́̔́̉̄͘o̸̗͙̮̯͛̅̓̀̌̈́\̵͔̆̾̈́̓͆̓̎͒͝͠T̵̺̞̳͎͓̠͛̇͂̈͗́͆̏̓͠͝ ̴̲̺͓̗̄̊̃̓̆̔̓͗͆͗̕͝͝Ơ̵͚̼̗̥̺͙̫̤͔͎̭̱̂[̵̧͖͓͇̭̯̜̖͙̩͍̎̓̀̏͋̈́͑̚͠/̵̢̧̢̬̹͎̜͇̰͉̻̳͓̊͑̀́̍/̷̤̗͍͇̫̯̦̯͎̱̥̬̇̿̈́̾͜͜u̸̧͎̘͙̮̎̽̈́̉͒́͗͛͛̎͘͝T̴͕̼̣͕̘̔̐͋͐͜ ̶̡̫͇̭͎͉͋̓̈́͊́̌̈́͜ ̸̢̻̘̫̱͍̠̣͓͗̄̇̏̽̾̿͘͝͝]̸̢̧͍͇̬̫̞̙̳̻̳͕̻̣̞͂





You--” He spoke through the smoke undulating from his panting mouth. He hadn’t heard the apology that had been uttered, nor did he recognize anything said as a word; only the voice that had been the spark to his subconscious’ gasoline. Whatever semblance of object permanence that reminded him of the remaining brother faded away in favour of confronting the source.

When Takao was upon Hika, his gloved hand would rise to slam into his chest and grab a fistful of his shirt collar, forcing him against the doors of the wardrobe. His glowing eyes and slitted pupils burned holes in his visage as Takao’s expression contorted with newfound choler.

Get. Out. Of my head.” Takao breathlessly articulated, straining with each word he managed to exhale. One last chorus of voices shrieked in his head, bleeding into his own thoughts, and then his words.




G̸͇̜̩̭̿̉͑̽̊́͋͗̐̓͐̀̋̔̽*̴̺͇̘͐͌̄̉̑̋͛̃̑̑̄͋͋͂͛*̶̱̳͕͈͈̳̑̈̍͑̑͌̚Ę̸̮̞͉̻̿͊͑*̶͓̬̯͑̕*̴̬̙̫̯̊̐́̉̀̌̈͐͗́̀͝͠͝T̵̢̡̡̫͖̣̰̪̝̩̝̖̦͉̼̎̍̈́̿̇̌̕͝ ̴̩̎͒͊̊̈́̿͛̕*̷̻̺̰̰̮̤̫̳̟̦̃̐́̊͛͒̊͘*̷͚̰̲̮̺͕͕̩͒̿̂̀̆͆̕͜ͅ ̸̢̨͍͓̝͖̼̝̟̻̎͐̔̑̀ͅ ̵̨̨̪͈̪͚͉̤̟̥͉̀́̇̉́̍̔̐̚͝͠͠O̶̡̨̭̞̪͖̗͓̰̽̉̇̌̂̓̎̂̕͜*̵̢̧̠̯̦͖͖̦̜̩̖̩͔͆͊̓̂̔̍̄̌͜*̸̡̘͚͓̘̹̬͎̭̺̜̹̳̾̃͜͠Ŭ̷̦̩̼͓̖̩̺̤̪̝̝͉̓͑͛̃̒͗̈̐͘͠͝͠(̵̧͓̫͕̭͚̤̝̙̮̩̯̣͇̞͋̒̇͝(̸͚͓̖̬͎̪̖̗̞̂̑̐̋̇͋͂̈́̃͘̚͘͘͜T̵̨̹̻̩̦̱̮̱̬̠͉̹̔͊̿̊͊̏͑̀



Get OUT!

TOTAL WC
+611
2,250

7 Re: Nothing Matters Too on Fri Jul 27, 2018 1:34 am

Hika

avatar

C-Rank
I don't want to die.

This might not be real. These flames, certainly not, but this man - he was the realest thing I'd come across since I'd awoken. The tragedy that befell the Sand was almost unreal in its cataclysmic nature, and the people here were equally unbelievable. Three men half of even my own size? It was, in the face of the rage borne by this flaring man, a wonder that I had even been afraid of them. Absurd, even. It was, after all, rather absurd that I'd gotten myself into this mess by talking to him unnecessarily, right? I should have syllogized on it... maybe then my life wouldn't be in jeopardy presently.



Hika wrote:
Yes, this situation doesn't look very good, does it? See, I'm lucky to be here. Lucky that this guy is reasonable.

....Okay, yes, he's not reasonable now. It's not like there's anything unusual about this situation at all, right?

Sometimes I wonder if there were distinctions about this sort of thing. It was so difficult to tell what was under THEIR control and what was a natural consequence, but this was - odd.

Abrupt, unnatural, yet - innate? If he was compelled, it would have been a bit more... conspicuous? Or was the one over him more clandestine? And even more unnerving and comforting at the same time....were they like you? Did they allow such freedoms, even when they were against our best interests?

Makes me think whether the events here-to-fore were my own folly or just some machinations conjured up by that sort of caprice. Nothing makes sense.

The more I know, the more I know that I don't know.




His approach was something I couldn't begin to fathom. In some fraction of a second, he was upon me - a single hand at my chest, clutching the fabric that barely held itself together as it was. His tone was far past apopleptic - he'd come full circle to emotional and literal incandescence. The blaze was directly upon me, the lightest graze of skin set me on fire - his state of mind had touched my own, and the heat choked me more than the nape of my shirt. The searing in my throat engaged that lacrimal reflex that originated not from fear or sadness - my nose arid, that near-cracking of the skin that kept me on the brink of bleeding.

My eyes widened when he half-whispered those words to me - skin exposed and clothed felt nothing but a char and that tightness, my suspension with a single hand. Doubt ceased to exist in my mind:

He could kill me. Or rather, there's nothing stopping him from killing me. He had complete control over the situation. The stability of this house was but a whim of his. My life was as good as forfeit - whatever abilities and (certainly) physical prowess he had outclassed me entirely. The revelation left my mind racing, eyes with no other option than to close.

Those words echoed in my mind, but they did not belong to him:

A cacophony of the same yet distorted so differently, the recital imminently threatening and eroding of my own thoughts.

As he pressed my back to the wardrobe I'd just exited so humbly, slamming the doors and pinching the back of my shirt in the jamb of the two hinged pieces of wood. And at that feeling of trapping, the finality of it just ending like this -

My own emotions, long had I thought them locked away, surged forward. I kicked and shifted my legs and body, gripping in what I knew was futility at his leathered grasp - my hands prying hither and yon at his single forearm, easily dwarfing those of my own frame. Almost as if a ragdoll from childhood was hefted by a troubled young adult - about to be ripped to shreds.

I am not inanimate. I have a will. And this man - he was not exercising his own.


ᒪᘿᖶ ᕼᓰᘻ ᘜᓍ.



I knew not what I thought - or more accurately, where. I had entered his mind again, but this time in the imperative. And certainly not myself. I am well aware of my ability to change my mental 'voice', but never had I been able to pervert it into a great many shouts, such as I had just surprised myself with. It was an order to him in relation to me, perhaps, likewise an order to them in relation to him. If I could feel this savage blistering of my skin, my psyche, for only a few moments -

What was he going through? How often was this?

...Was it even possible for me to fight them?

How unreasonable of me. Worrying about others when I'm nowhere certain of my own safety.

And yet I don't feel like you're up to anything.



815|3100


220/240:
Name: Evil Illusion, Puppet Feelings | 魔幻・情操 Magen - Jōsō
Canon/Custom: Custom.
Rank: D.
Type: Supplementary | Nenjutsu
Element: None.
Range: One target 25m.
Specialty: Genjutsu | Iryōjutsu
Duration: Up to 8 posts.
Cooldown: Duration +2 posts.
Description: Requires the "Telepathy" ability - after the user has established a telepathic link, they need only be visible to a target while speaking to them (verbally or otherwise) for this subtle trickery to begin. As it uses the same method as its predecessor, it also is not able to be detected as Genjutsu via a disturbance in the target's chakra flow. This technique more accurately changes the passive ability's frequencies - unlike its use alone, this illusion allows the user to masquerade their own mental utterances as a target's. To this end, it is also a sensory ability - the user can tell when the target is and isn't thinking (but not what they are thinking). This assists only with interjecting thoughts when the target isn't having any of their own, so as not to so obviously betray a second presence.

Of course, this technique has variable effect - the user has to read the situation and attempt to emulate a target's speech patterns to preserve their verisimilitude. Even then, it is at times difficult to ensure that the target's "thoughts to themselves" will profoundly sway their responses to situations; the user cannot directly 'tell' Player Characters what courses of action to take using this technique - the target can reason themselves out of their own 'thoughts', like any of their own.


____

8 Re: Nothing Matters Too on Sat Aug 04, 2018 1:15 am

Takao

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𝌊

Incessant throbs of pain continued to pound against Takao’s skull, rocking his entire body with unbearable waves of agony. The imagery within his mind made it feel like his head was being split in two from the inside, and his skull was ready to burst open from the pressure. The chorus of voices roared with newfound volume and vigour, as if Takao was at the epicenter of a loud party where every occupant was yelling into his ears. Despite their volume, Takao’s own thoughts were locked in a shouting match with them, telling them to shut up, to be quiet, and to give him just a moment’s reprieve of silence and solitude from their vocal wrath.

It was miraculous, but Takao had managed to start to calm them down. He could feel their grasp on his psyche weaken and his own thoughts punch through the wall of sound, and the faintest taste of remission graced his drained mind. But such solace was never long-lived for Takao.

b//u-r̵N̵ ̴I̴T̵͖̺̩̅̈́ ̴̢̠̺̫́̽Á̴͙/̶̺̘̗̋L̴̜̥͊̀-̸̗̯͒̓̈̈/̸͈͑͝/̴̲͒͗L̴̳͋ᒪᘿᖶ ᕼᓰᘻ ᘜᓍB̸̫͠U̷̺͌-̵̣̈́.̸̖͛/̸͓͠/̸̱̆r̴͔͑/̷̳̐/̶̹̽Ǹ̸̘ ̵̖̑ḭ̸̾/̵t̴ ̴a̷l̸l


The same voice invaded his mind again and threw them right back into a fury, only this time it was much worse. The invading voice was not just present, it was making demands. Commanding him. Takao’s own thoughts faded into obscurity as the volume of his schizophrenia increased to truly unbearable levels.

His jaw tensed and his teeth grit against one another as a guttural, animalistic and pained growl rumbled in his throat. It built in intensity and volume as smoke billowed out from behind his teeth. His arm swung forward in a flash like lightning, and had he been of sound mind it might have connected with his quarry’s face, but the mental daze that plagued his judgment sent it careening into the wooden wardrobe. His bare fist tore through the doors and splintered the back, stopping when his arm could travel no further after colliding with the wall on the other side. The sandstone cracked and crumbled, collapsing en masse behind the wardrobe, leaving behind the shattered lath.

His grip on Hika’s shirt tightened as his head lurched forward, slamming into the wardrobe between his arm and Hika’s own head. The wood splintered again from the impact, cracking and whining under the force. His neck tensed and a loud, howling guttural cry of pain wailed from within his chest. His arm slowly pulled itself from the shattered wardrobe, letting splinters of wood tear away at his skin. The pain in his arm was dwarfed so thoroughly by the pulsing waves in his head that he hadn’t even noticed warm blood washing over his skin, trickling down the tanned limb.

“Stop--hnngh… fucking… with my head..!” He managed to hiss out with great effort. His grip loosened on Hika’s shirt in favour of stumbling backward, nearly tripping over one of the two remaining brothers who had opted for fleeing with his unconscious kin before the ire of the raven-haired shinobi was directed back unto them.

Both of Takao’s hands shot up to his head and pressed against his temples. He cried out another guttural scream of pain as he dropped to his knees, his head and body writhing in desperation for salvation from the pain.

“Fucking... stop...!” He wailed, opting for the only thing that had ever worked in the past. His back arched and his head leaned back, then slammed forward into the wooden floorboards, splintering the aged wood there in the same manner that he had the wardrobe. Slowly, he lifted his head again, bracing himself with hands on the floor, and slammed it back into the same spot. Warm, sanguine fluid began to drip onto the fresh splinters as his jaw fell lax and heavy breaths inflated his lungs in arrhythmic, laboured patterns.

“Please… just… stop…”

TOTAL WC
+656
2,906

9 Re: Nothing Matters Too on Thu Aug 09, 2018 10:10 am

Hika

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C-Rank
He could have killed me. Perhaps he had meant to. Or there may have been something else that kept me alive. Another force at work.

But this is how it is. I get the one chance to fix what I had wronged, and this is what happens. This is humiliating, after all I've said and done - when I reject and doubt you, is this the result? A punishment not bestowed directly upon me, but well enough suffices to torment me with the pain of another. A being who had entered this place happy-go-lucky and even in good spirits. And I'd reduced him to this from the anger I'd elicited before. A screaming victim where he had one tick of the clock earlier been something I thought to be my end. Was this technically self-defense? Or is this action bad simply due to my intentions being good?

His knees buckled, and with certainty not from my own intervention - I had done enough. I've done too much here already. He had slammed me against my former hiding place, my head reeling from the sudden impact and whiplash of his collar-wringing. My linen top-adornments in comparative shreds, my descent was at once definitive and query-raising. 'How did I get down here? Why can't I move? What's that sound?' It was a new experience for me, being assailed like this. After all, even this situation had begun in my attempt to avoid combat. Those men were peons compared to this... this...

He wasn't a monster. I'm the monster. I did this to him.

The roaring blaze that surrounded us sputtered on, coughing out ashen clouds as he pressed his head in an earthbound supplication.

It was, of course, not my place to 'help' any more. All he wanted was for me to cease my actions. What right had I to intervene any further when his only entreaty was to be left alone? He'd dealt himself a modicum of damage in smiting the furniture that had held me so well, enough that he bled - yet, so it seemed, not in the least breaking the threshold of being noteworthy.

Was there anything to say to a man who I'd assaulted mentally, even in error? My only recourse here was helping in a way I knew couldn't backfire.

...well. I thought I knew, anyhow. Presuming one's knowledge to be true is starting to seem like a bad place to start. Going towards a man that had in the merest moment before been choking me to death would have been a stupid idea had it not been for this weight on my chest. Not the pressure of his balled-up fists forcing me against the door, but one all my own. An emotion turned physical, that supreme pit in my existence.

The right sleeve of my already-in-pieces shirt would say its farewells to the rest that only adorned me still in loose-clinging tatters. A rudimentary loop-and-knot was something even an untrained person could do; a tourniquet for his arm was the least in the way of service that I could offer. Should he even have allowed me that close to him, let alone to touch him, the bleeding would stanch at least in part.


"I just want to help - I'm sorry - I didn't mean for this to happen - Please ---"


They meant nothing and everything in their multitude. Those phrases amidst a thousand more spilled out of my mouth as I attempted to administer the only medical treatment I knew how for this situation, using the remaining ribbons of that cloth to makeshift bandages for him. Assuaging his thoughts was something I'm not sure either of us was comfortable with me doing. I had just done something horrible to him, why would this be any different to the recipient of something like that?

It keeps nagging and eating away at me. I cannot leave this man. For once I want to truly fix something - even if it is only because I have broken it.

But my power has only caused him pain thus far. What if there was interference after all? Or was this situation my own fault in its entirety? Am I only looking to blame you because of my own failings? What am I without my knowledge that you exist?

I'm nothing. A stupid kid that can't use his powers right is as good as any other. Probably less so. When his beseeching turned to muted whimpers, the gravity of all this, streaming through my consciousness as I did my best, sent a blow that crushed the air out of my lungs. I tried my best to steady my breathing, take deep inhales - to no avail.

My breast fluttered with breath as I struggled to intake or keep it inside. Already on my knees to treat his wound, I crumpled forward, a pitiful mimicry of his own position moments before. I think I know an inkling of his pain now.

When I get into someone's head, even my own, terrible things happen.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I heard it still, his pleas no longer to me, but to that which lingered and flared at my intrusion. My wet sobs only briefly cooled my face, no longer seared by flames but by the flushing of my cheeks. But at the same time, those sobs were also chuckles, those of one who couldn't process everything that had just transpired in these short few moments, those of one who could feel their own powerlessness in the one time they wanted - no, even needed - power. This was a child. I never had ninja training, no experience in combat. I had heretofore run from every struggle - Junpei, Aki.... I barely recall them any more.

What did they go through that for? Am I really worth it?


"isn't this ridiculous...?"

1000|4100


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10 Re: Nothing Matters Too on Mon Aug 13, 2018 9:58 am

Takao

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Several more strikes of his head against the wooden floor had worked in typical fashion to dull the screaming voices in his head. The belligerent choice of action wasn’t the most conventional means, but he felt little other option when his back was against the wall and the pain throbbing in his head clouded any semblance of better judgment. During those outbursts, he could hardly even tell which thoughts were his. But, for some reason, smashing his head against something worked to stave them off. He knew full well what he was doing to himself, the damage that repeated infliction of mild-traumatic brain injuries would inflict, but there was little he could do about it when the pain became unbearable.

Slowly, they faded-- not into obscurity, for precious little would make them disappear entirely-- but dulled and quiet enough that they no longer sought to rip his head asunder. His eyes slowly opened and his fuzzy gaze adjusted on the splintered, indented wooden floorboards. To his side, he could see the bloodied form of his arm drooling blood from several wounds inflicted by the splinters of the wardrobe. As his gaze fixed center, he could feel and could see droplets of blood as they trickled down the bridge of his nose and dripped into the crater of old wood made by his head. His left eye was forced to close as blood trailed over it next. Warm sanguine liquid coated the side of his head; far from a foreign sensation, Takao was quite used to the feeling of his own blood washing over his flesh. Morbid as it was, he couldn’t help but find a certain comfort in the essence of his own mortality.

His gaze blurred again as the self-inflicted concussion swept a wave of nausea over him. With an unsettled stomach and residual dull, throbbing headache, Takao felt unwilling to move from his knelt position when Hika approached with a strip of cloth from his tattered garments. He tied a rudimentary tourniquet around his bloodied arm in an attempt to slow the flow of blood from his arm. While it was a nice gesture, it ultimately left Takao confused, with tinges of fear licking at the hairs on the back of his neck. Whoever this person was, or whatever they were, they could invade his thoughts and send the voices within into absolute bedlam. For Takao, who feared the power those voices had over him, it was a thought that threatened to shake him to the bone. Mustering the last shreds of strength that he could rally in the present moment, a low growl rumbled in Takao’s throat.

“Stay out of my head.” He snarled, cold black eyes boring rigidly into Hika. His arms wobbled slightly as they began to lose the strength to hold his body up. Slowly, his gaze returned earthward.

“The next time you do that, I’m going to rip your limbs off.” His threat was spoken breathlessly, and surely lost some of the weight they carried when his voice cracked and broke half-way through. The mental fatigue of the sheer stress of the ordeal had left him certainly left him weakened.

Finally, the strength in Takao’s arms gave way and he fell, rolling onto his back. His chest rose and fell in a gentle, albeit arrhythmic pattern. The blood from small cuts upon his brow trickled off to the side as his single-eyed gaze settled on the dilapidated ceiling. Stray beams of light managed to find their way through small slats and holes in both the roof and the floor above, shining precious little illumination down into the room in which the pair occupied. Glancing off to the side, Takao could see the pair of brothers-- the other having finally recovered consciousness, clamouring out of the building and avoiding the residual flames from his explosive exit from the basement.

“Fuckin’ weirdos.” Takao grunted as his head returned to center and found his gaze resting back on the ceiling, enjoying the postmortem of his misery following the severe schizophrenic episode. Within seconds, his eye was trailing down to the bloodied arm, whose wounds were slowed by the tourniquet fastened against the limb. Then, he glanced up to Hika, who sobbed at his side. It was truly a confusing situation from start to finish. All he had come to the ruins of Sunagakure for was the ancient mythos of a technique forgotten to time, and instead he had-- in his perception of the events-- essentially bullied three mind-controlling midgets and nearly killed a kid whose supposed attempts at helping had instead thrown him into a frenzy.

“Who are you?” Takao asked in the interest of learning more about his allegedly accidental assailant. “What’s your name?”

TOTAL WC
+800
3,706

11 Re: Nothing Matters Too on Tue Sep 18, 2018 2:10 am

Hika

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C-Rank
I couldn't just leave, given everything.

After a minute of bearing witness to a man beat himself - something within himself - into submission, whether for his own sake or for mine. My legs cried out in an urgent tingle, the adrenaline urging me to stand and flee. For a moment, my arms half-hoisted me from the kneeling slouch I'd taken at his side. His own wounds exceeded the severity of my own, and he was meaning to harm me. Or, he was. His expression was not directed at me, that much was certain - those coals in his eyes didn't glow any further, smothered by his own attempts at -

Whatever this was. I'd not seen anything like it in my time here. My...short time. As I dressed his wound, a bark-turning-whimper gave me pause for thought. Whether this was in my best interest no longer found any purchase in the steep cliff of my burden. Shouldering it was not a goal but an ultimatum for myself. Owing it to both this man and to whatever part of me I left back in those mountain passes. At such a point, not even the former assailants were of any consequence to me now. What, were they going to mess with the guy that just tore through them to get to me?

Worse, were they gonna mess with the kid that caused this mess? Maybe being the one to blame doesn't always feel good, but comes with upsides you don't intend or originally see. Even if you never wanted to be the center of culpability in the first place.

His dorsal side in view, I understood that his constitution was more than I had given him credit for. Various scars adorned the patches of skin in sight from his own torn clothing, and I knew he'd seen his share of injuries. Likely not all inflicted by would-be assailants more competent than these.

His only reply gave me another moment of silence stretching tens of times longer within the confines of my own perception - thoughts whizzing past my own consciousness faster than I could calculate what I was thinking. It was likely the adrenaline, what with the trembling breaths at every intake - the source of the reality of my own hubris, inexperience, and mortality lay there somewhere between exhausted and what seemed like strange relief.

A thought occurs. Why not adopt the same posture? The ceiling above was no more, purples and oranges dancing along the splinter-ridden skyscape. And as I lay there, not three paces from him as a yang to his yin, my mouth bore words I never thought I'd speak again.


"I just wander around trying to see what the world really is. Sure as fuck don't know yet. I haven't told anyone my real name in four years. But you could probably guess that."


Another hitched breath in the liminal space between a chuckle and a sob, yet in not ten seconds a deep intake followed, and yet after a creaking of the floorboards. I knelt at him, forehead touching the floor in a traditional expression of regret. It almost felt old-fashioned.


"Maybe you're not for the formalities, but I, Takenaka Hika, apologize for my actions. I did not fully consider what I tried to do. And you've made me think about the implications of what I am able."

Somewhere in my brain, I was screaming at myself to erase his memory, that he might not remember my name and hunt me down for decades to come. It was silly to think that sort of thing, but I knew the fight-or-flight response well. It was a wonder of human spirit that I was still here. It was my own will, against reason or any other instinct, that allowed me any semblance of calm in the midst of this man.

Right. He was still human, like any other.


"As to everything else... I messed up. I thought I could handle it on my own and only wanted to keep you out of it. Not...like you needed any assistance.

What about you? Very little brings people to this kind of living situation unless they're stuck here."

My intake and outtake of air sped and stuttered as my mind caught up to what exactly I'd done. Somewhere in my hyper-sensitive stupor, perhaps I'd gone full circle and forgotten fear.

750|4850


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