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Post by Satoshi on Sept 19, 2016 9:02:07 GMT
Outskirts of the Land of Rivers 19:43 Decay and Purity Meet: The Plague Doctor and the Unicorn Satoshi and Masumi
Satoshi looked around him, eyes darting all the while. Chewing his cigar thoughtfully, he took in the sights and sounds of the inn. The general bustle had dissipated, and most people were staring uneasily at him. He supposed it was because he was smoking. there was clearly a no-smoking sign above the door, but Satoshi wasn't one for rules. He supposed it was inevitable, since he'd killed his former compatriots innumerable, and slaughtered the citizens he'd sworn to protect. Oaths, tch. He thought to himself, chewing on his cigar particularly vigorously. Nobody had stopped him, not because they didn't care, but because anyone who came near enough to speak was immediately overwhelmed by the sheer weight of his presence. Any non-shinobi was no doubt unsure as to how, but they knew this man wanted to kill them. It was enough to produce the proudest of men to whimpers and wetting themselves. Of course, any ninja in the bar would immediately be aware that he was a high-level combatant, and were no doubt already planning their next cause of action.
If they recognized him, they would no doubt report him to Kiri, or one of the other villages he'd angered, and then he would be finished. Perhaps they were already on their way? Those cursed Current members, with their porcelain gazes. Sato downed his beer quickly, draining it significantly. He knew he wouldn't afford to dull his senses too much, but it was the only way he didn't go insane. He could already feel tension building within him, and if he snapped he would have to destroy this inn. The possibility of any ninja being in the bar was remote-as they were far removed from any village or target of note-but by sheer virtue of it being a possibility, the man was growing anxious. It seemed inevitable to Satoshi that this bar would be flattened within hours, and this would mean another sleepless night spent on the run, distancing himself from the crime scene. It was hard for Satoshi to know how many crimes he'd been blamed for over the years, due to his isolation and ability to cover his tracks, but his tendency to assume the worst made him suspect he was now wanted by all major villages.
Exhaling quickly, smoke billowing from his mouth, the man twitched slightly. He wondered how he'd flatten the place. "Burning it to the ground would be easy, no witnesses-just ash. Done that too recently. Might get reputation, local authorities involved. Bad. Rust too obvious, Mist would be on me in moments. Bury it. No witnesses. Not found for weeks. Excavated, no idea who did it. His thought process was sick, but logical-to a degree. All that was needed now was a spark to set him off, the slightest tension could make the unstable ninja explode.
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Post by Masumi on Sept 20, 2016 6:46:25 GMT
It was becoming late, and a lone figure was walking through the darkness, clad in black and white garments, with a wrapped pole on his back. The moon light shone brightly on the figures white blonde hair, and glistened on the few beads of sweat on his brow. With a sigh, the man reached up and wiped his forehead, how he loathed walking so. He would need to rest for the night soon, the darkness didn’t suit him much, for how would people gaze upon him if there was no light, or they were asleep. That simply would not do. After several more minutes of anguished walking, the man noticed a building in the distance, an inn or sorts he would assume. “Ahh, finally a place where I can be still and rest, and those inside might lay their eyes upon me and be awestruck by my beauty.” The thought of this perked Masumi up, and he walked slightly faster to reach the inn before anyone else might lie down to sleep.
Masumi swung the door open into the downstairs tavern, and was immediately appalled by the stench, mostly cigar smoke, that wafted through his nostrils, but his refined nature did not let him make a face, especially not when he had new faces to observe. He simply snorted lightly, pressing out the repugnant smells that danced around his nose. He looked around the mess of faces, where man and woman alike had begun to stare at Masumi, some even whispering to one another. His undeniable grace had swept over the building, no doubt. The light made his flawless skin shine, and his pale pink eyes seemed to glow. One girl in the back let out a perverse but slight “mmm” and bit her lip. Only to be met with a glare by her assumed partner.
Masumi looked around, and stared into the eyes of each person who dare make eye contact with him. Thief. Unworthy. Adulteress. Unworthy. Adulterer. Unworthy… He went through near everyone in the building in mere seconds, his Hanteigan judging all. “Shame, not a soul here either.”he would say, near a whisper. In all honesty, even Masumi did not know what he would consider worthy. The very thought of it was so outlandish to him, that someone could be on his level of elegance and refinement, he The God Child. He thought very little of that subject. By now the man mentioned before, obviously drunk, stomped up to Masumi. “Hey *hic* Pal or girl, or whatever you are, the f*ck d’ya think you’re doin’?” the drunkard said, lifting a finger aiming to push the Flawless man on the shoulder. “Ya eyeballin’ muh gal?” Masumi gracefully, near floating, took several steps back. He was repulsed that such a man would even concoct that silly thought in his head. “Certainly not, I have not a single use for the swine companion of a wretched alcoholic.” Masumi did not know the meaning of ‘holding one’s tongue.’ For he was able to see the souls of any he gazed upon. He knew their true worth. His retort angered the man, and he went into a blind rage. The drunk roared and went after Masumi, both arms outstretched. With the grace of a seasoned ballroom dancer, Masumi glided across the floor flanking the man, and with one swift and precise blow, delivered a knifehand to the base of the man’s skull. Killing him on contact, due to a severed spine, and massive blunt force trauma to the brain.
The corpse fell to the floor in a heap, and several gasps were heard, only to be met with Masumis soft and luscious voice, “Such a man as you has no business raising a hand to me.” The woman he was with shrieked and ran to his aid, kneeling on the floor holding his head. She was about to speak, but was interrupted by a “soft” kick to the shoulder, delivered by none other than Masumi, their eyes met again and she stared into his eyes. Horror now took the place of lust that she had once felt, “Repent and you will be granted life. Disregard my warning and be granted death.” What the woman said next would decide her fate, for she was being judged.
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Post by Satoshi on Sept 20, 2016 10:16:47 GMT
Satoshi heard the door open and inhaled sharply, smoke then billowing out of his mouth. Face obscured by the substance, he waited. This could be a shinobi, sent to retrieve him. These could be his last few moments of freedom, and amongst his last fleeting days of life. Tension grew ever more within Satoshi, and he curved his shoulders, ready to move at any moment. The people all around him were staring, a bad sign. Was it a team of shinobi? The Mizukage himself come to hunt him down? It wasn't the fear of combat that bothered Sato, but the implications of being found. If a shinboi recognized him, it meant that he would be hunted thereafter. Always that fear, the terror the inability to rest for even the briefest moments, lest he be snared. If he was to go down, it would not be quietly, and Satoshi knew he might have to speed up his flattening of this bar. It was almost a shame, the beer had been decent, but nothing was worth risking his life for. At this point it as all he had left.
The slightest of moans caught Satoshi's attention. A shinboi, his senses were suitably sharp, and he gathered that some hunk of a man must've entered. That offered no relief-although few things did-as many shinobi were in peak physical condition. Breathing growing more rapid, his draws would grow larger, and the smoke would continue to fill the room, a veneer of grey filling the air, Satoshi's grip tightening around his glass. Finally, a fight would break out, and Satoshi listened intently. Within moments, one combatant was dispatched. That disparity in skill was only possible if one combatant was a shinobi. Fuck it, the bar was going down. As the assailant pontificated wildly-acting like some man of God-Satoshi would throw his glass at the wall, shattering it and drawing all attention to him. Satoshi was angered by these words. The idea that one could repent bought with it the idea that there was good in the world. He'd believed it once, and he's watched it die with his family.
"Godamnit!" He would roar. Turning around, Satoshi's hands would fall to his sides, head cocking to the right, and cigar hanging lazily from his mouth. The killer intent he radiated was palpable, nigh a physical force. "Can't a man enjoy his drink in peace?" To the woman, it would no doubt seem he'd come to her rescue, some kind of murderous knight in rotting armor. However, Satoshi wouldn't care if she'd died. In fact, he was considering doing it himself. The tension had just become too much for the antsy nukenin, and he was aiming to eliminate the threat sooner rather than later. After all, backup could be en route at any moment, and Satoshi had no desire to be apprehended. Tch. Not this shit again. He would reflect with chagrin.
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Post by Masumi on Sept 20, 2016 23:17:08 GMT
Before the woman could utter a word, someone in the bar smashed a glass against the wall, and began yelling. Such events were to be expected in a dump like this. This was no ordinary man it seemed, the air was heavy, and not just from the smoke of his potent cigar, no. It was from sheer bloodlust, with a hint of insanity. He asked if he could drink in peace, a silly thought to Masumi. For if one is drinking, there is no peace within them. His eyes were still engaged with the woman, and her eyes on his, and the look of terror had grown. The woman was pale white, apparently the new shinobi’s aura had advanced her stages of fear some. “You have the look of someone who will live a better life now. Think back to this time and know that it was I who saved you.” Masumi pointed to the door, “Go.” The woman shuddered and shakily left the inn, almost falling several times on the way out. In all honesty, he planned to end her life, but a more pressing matter had come up. Satoshi. Now, to see what this man wanted. The smoke had obscured his face when Masumi scanned the building, so Sato had not been read yet.
Masumi turned sharply towards Satoshi, eyeing him up and down, though he looked like a run-of –the-mill punk, Masumi could tell with a glance that he was much more than that. An experienced shinobi, covered in blood. His eyes traveled further up, stopping briefly on the cigar. A grotesque item, filling the air and lungs with impurities. Then further up, finally to Sato’s eyes. In an instant Masu knew exactly the kind of man that Satoshi was, a depraved, sadistic, and paranoid man who holds no life as sacred. Killing for the sake of killing. It was also the first time that Masumi had ever met someone so powerful, he could tell just by the sheer weight of the man’s soul that he was a force to be reckoned with. With the slightest of twitches, Masumi’s eyes moved. He was now irritated, for once he met a man that he was incapable of bringing judgment upon. With elegant strides, the like you would only see if you watched royalty, the gender questionable man walked to Sato’s table.
“May I?” Masumi gestured to the seat adjacent from the visibly agitated man, but did not wait for a response. Masumi took his spear from his back and leaned it against the table. Then he pulled the chair out and sat, crossing his legs delicately, and turned to the barkeep, “One more for him, and a glass of water for me. I’d hurry if I were you.” Masumi then gestured to the seat that Sato stood from, “Have a seat, please.” Masumi was intrigued to say the least, but he also knew that this man was the most powerful person in the surrounding area, diffusing him was the best option. Though that might prove difficult. The barkeep walked to the pair, drinks on the platter, eyes darting between them. On one side, there was a beauty like she had never seen who would kill without mercy if he judged them. The other side held some sort of serial monster that would kill without reason. Quite the pair.
After the barkeep set the drinks on the table, she quickly scurried off. By now, the entire inn was dead silent, one could even hear the tobacco burning in Sato’s cigar. All eyes on the unique meeting, wondering what fate would give them. Masu smiled, a girlish smile that would normally enchant anyone who laid eyes upon it and spoke, ”Allow me to introduce myself. I am the God Child, Masumi Maki.” He was unsure of the volatile shinobi that stood before him, but there was not much else he could do.
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