- Ryoushi AzumaCitizen
- Ryo : 4550
Mon Mar 02, 2015 12:17 am
Mission Name: Look out Below
Character Requirements: None
Mission Location: Kumogakure/ Village
Word Count Requirements: 2500
NPC?If an NPC will be present in the mission, and what their purpose will be.
Reward: 2400 ryo
As you know, Kumogakure is famous for its Bars, its a great place to go to have fun. However, the village does have to deal with the "problem" that always seem to occur. Your mission is to stop 3 villagers from jumping off a 20 story building, they are drunk they don't know any better. You must rescue all three, or else you will fail the mission.
How in the name of all that was just and good had Azuma talked himself into this mission? It's only a "C" rank, he remembered thinking as he looked over the board, it shouldn't bee too hard for any ninja. It was, at first, thought be a simple challenge of his skills as a ninja. After all, growing up in Kumogakure meant that bar life was a normal thing, and people attempting, or even having the urge, to do something supremely stupid were common. But never before had he heard of people trying to jump off of a building. Honestly, there couldn't be a single person that dumb in this world, no matter how drunk they were, or were not.
As he looked at the situation before him, Azuma mused that he was right after all. There wasn't one person dumb enough to try jumping off of a twenty story building.
There were three.
There they were three little drunkards, sauced and sloshed out of their minds, reeking of alcohol as empty bottles rolled across the rooftop. One empty bottle of sake stopped at Azuma's toes, and he picked up, turning it over. Rare stock, he imaged, and it was probably on someone's tab for more than they made in a year. And yet, there it was, drained to the dregs by one of the chuckling drunkards in front of him.
This would be so much easier with a team, Azuma mused quietly, taking in the people before him with glazed white eyes. The first, and youngest, was clearly the center of attention; the birthday boy. Cackling and smiling away placidly, he clearly had never enjoyed a drop of alcohol in his life before tonight, and now he'd had more than he could bear. A crop of almond hair was topped with one of those pointed party hats people seemed to adore so very much, blue eyes watery and unfocused as he stumbled with his friends on the roof.
The second must have been an elder brother. Judging by the facial scars, he had come home from some battlefront to be here when his brother took his first drink. Scarlet flush adorned his cheeks, and Azuma was taken aback by how much the two looked like each other. This elder brother could've passed for a stronger, taller clone of the young man now clinging to his brother's shoulder in drunken joy, the brothers now bacchanals, as well.
The third was someone Azuma caught himself recognizing; he'd seen her face about town more than once, and usually in the middle of a drunken altercation with the authorities or her friends. He didn't know her name, but he knew by her reputation alone that this was far from her first party; though, judging by how wobbly her heels were, and how close she was to that edge, it might be her last. Of course, it was Azuma's job to keep that from happening. Still, he found himself surprised that a girl like that, who got drunk on a regular basis, was hanging around with this pair. Judging by how she was coddling the younger man and admiring the elder, she was likely enjoying the fruits of their debauchery, or planning more of it. The idea dawned on Azuma that she might've paid for those drinks herself. After all, as a local and a regular barfly, she probably had accumulated miles of tabs from club hopping.
She was either squandering more money than Azuma thought anyone had a right to have, or she was pulling some marvelous con. That, or she just enjoyed the party circut so much that she couldn't imagine a life without it. For once, Azuma found himself approaching a woman, not out of a desire to woo or to flirt, but out of a sense of civic duty, and out of the need to keep people alive.
What in the world was he growing up into? A man with a sense of duty? Ninjas were supposed to skip the emotions when they were on the job. How could he make chuunin with a pesky sense of valor and outdated chivalry in his way? Still, people did love a hero, and maybe tonight was a good place for Azuma to start growing up into one.
"Enjoying the view?" He called to the three. They turned, the trip all in a drunken, sloppy haze, the woman hanging onto the men, and the men enjoying every second of her attention.
"Yeah!" The youngest spurted. He couldn't have been much older than Azuma, on closer inspection. The ID that got him in the door was either a fake, or he had secrets of youth that some of the older members of the Kumogakure community needed a few milligrams of. Ten, at least, and there were some old maids who'd look as stunning as they did at sixty. "It'sh, it'sh, itsh my birthday!" Stammering, slurring and repeating loudly; all hallmarks of the bricked. "Happy birthday to me!"
"Happy birthday!" The woman crooned, before smacking her lips to the boy's cheek, before slamming them into his brother's. All three were sent into spirals of cackling and drunken howling, snorting and hooting as if it were their last day on earth. Five inches backwards, and it would be. Azuma gulped, trying to think of a way to draw them away.
"Happy birthday," Azuma commented, smiling warmly to the young man, who hiccuped and stumbled a little to the left, drawing both of his companions with him, stumbling and bumbling about the roof. They were going to be pancakes in a minute if Azuma didn't do something. His mind roiled and rolled, before his smile grew. An idea began to dawn in his mind, slowly forming out of the detritus of lustful thoughts and other teenage miscellanea. "How about I buy you three another round, then?"
"Oh, we're full," commented the elder brother, before he bent over double, and hurled. Stepping back to avoid the spew, the malodorous perfume filling his lungs as he retreated slightly, Azuma felt his stomach turn once, twice, three times. If he wasn't careful, he was going to lose his lunch too. "Guess not!" The elder brother cackled, slapping his thigh as he stumbled towards the genin. Azuma, feeling some small relief staunch the rising tide of bile in his throat, smiled and waved him by, watching the older man make for the rooftop door. There were a few onlookers who helped usher him inside, and Azuma swallowed some fear and vomit in equal measure. One more person safe from the perils of the drop, but two more still had to be saved. The young man seemed content to have the party girl all to himself, growing a little handsy when Azuma turned back. The girl giggled, slapping his hand away.
Her heels were growing more wobbly. Terror began to rise back in Azuma's stomach. The fraudulent promise of more booze had swayed one drunken soul, but it had yet to draw the other two from the rooftop's edge. The two were too drunk too care, and the boy was clearly was not cogent of the fact that the girl was having none of his searching fingers. The girl was now glancing around dazedly, hiccuping as she tried to search for the elder brother. So the birthday boy was just a door to the cute soldier. At least she wasn't against cradle-robbing, though she seemed to have no problem with drowning the baby in booze.
"You'll want to follow the other guy," Azuma said to the remaining drunken pair as the stumbled about the edge, "he's got the right idea. More drinks are always fun, right?" Azuma was hopeful this reiteration might stir them into action, but they ignored him, content to push and pull at each other.
"Nooo~!" The woman squeaked as the birthday boy tried to give one of her ripe melons a feel, "You can't touch me there, shilly boy~! That'sh sho naughty!" Slurring and stumbling, she tempted the edge, Azuma's heart racing, before landing back on the roof with a click of a shiny pimp pump.
"C'mon, I'm the birthday boy!" The young man groaned, reaching around to give the woman's ass a firm pinch, "birthday boy gets what he wantsh!" This was getting dangerous, not just for the sake of a drop, but for the sake of safety. Neither were sober enough to make a sane decision, clearly. This was far from the situation Azuma had in mind when he'd signed up for this mission. Hell, this was miles from what he thought he'd be doing as a shinobi. He thought he'd be dashing across rooftops, bow in hand, taking out other ninjas in smooth, fluid strokes. He dreamed of damsels in distress, of maidens seeking the hands of skilled soldiers, of kisses under falling leaves and flowers...
Sure, he was a romantic, in more ways than one. He romanticized everything, Azuma realized, even being a ninja. Now, it was coming to back to bite him. He was faced with a serious problem, an issue where lives had been put in danger due to negligence or just pure stupidity. He felt even more stupid than this boy hopefully would in the morning, and Azuma would trade places with him gladly. A hangover was better than knowing he'd signed up to do something out of what it could be, rather than what it was. In his minds eye, this was the work of heroes, the kind who never failed to stop the bad guy and save the girl. But, here in reality, with cold stone around them and the night wind in their lungs, was the truth; it was a job about helping people, no matter how you dressed it up. Helping could be putting down a dangerous man, or luring a boar off of a farmer's land.
Or, in this case, saving two people from making a very bad decision. Right now, Azuma wanted to be somewhere, anywhere but here. Anywhere would do that wasn't this rooftop, reeking of puke and alcohol and expensive, alluring perfumes, this place that dropped him squarely into the place of responsibility. If there was one thing Azuma had to be, it was responsible. It was something that had been engrained in him from a young age; if you can make a good difference somewhere, if you could change something for the better, then you better damn well try. It wasn't the way of hunters and clansmen, or the way of ninjas and assassins. It was the way of a scared fourteen year old genin, pleading with whatever force was listening out there in this vast, empty, bitter abyss of a universe that tonight, just tonight, while Azuma was here, everyone would walk away. That tonight, just for the hell of it, everyone would be okay.
No more silver tongue, Azuma mused to himself as he watched the young man make another grab for the party girl ("Nooo~! Get your drunk little paws off of my skirt, pervert~!" "C'mon, just one little birthday peek for the birthday boy? C'mon, do it!"). They wouldn't listen to honeyed words and let him talk his way out of this one. He couldn't win every fight with diplomacy, but he could, at the very least, save their lives before they made a dumb mistake. The young man was starting to push the woman closer and closer to the edge of the roof, too close for Azuma's comfort. Scowling, his slender fingers drew into a fist, worn leather on his fingertips squeaking as it pressed to his palm.
And then he punched the young drunk right in his stupid face, knocking him out cold.
They teach more than handsigns and manners at the Academy, and Azuma had always been a star student. He had thrived in the classroom, studying at night and practicing at every hour of the day. There was time set aside for sleeping and eating, of course, but his studies had come first. He'd been gifted, his instructors had noticed, in weapon mastery and taijustu, showing promise in each field. Azuma had his books to thank for that. One in particular had shown him how to throw a punch to end all fights, the one that was now meeting the drunken man's temple.
Hit in the right place, anyone will feel the effects. Some places will turn the stomach, and others will paralyze and freeze foes in their tracks. Some are beneficial, removing headaches and pains. But this punch was a direct line to dreamland, and as the leather-clad fist met temple, the young drunk found his seat and got his ticket punched in one go. He was out like a light, Azuma's other hand snapping around to pull him back from the roof's daunting edge, before lowering him gently to the roof itself. He law there, drooling into the building, a red mark already swelling on his forehead.
"Sorry about that," Azuma grumbled to the unconscious figure below him, watching the birthday boy twitch and snore in his bacchanal slumber, "Trust me, the hangover will feel worse. You probably won't even notice it, until you look in the mirror." Like the drunkard could hear him. "Oh," Azuma said, nudging the boy in the side, "and when the lady says no? She means no." Turning to the girl, Azuma gave her a sheepish shrug, the party girl hiccuping, barely able to stand atop wobbly heels, her trembling pumps barely able to hold her balanced and aloft. "Sorry I didn't do that sooner."
"No biggie~! No biggie," the girl hiccuped, grinning drunkenly at Azuma now, hands waving wildly, "Hey, hey, heeey~! Ninajguy. Let'sh, let'sh do shome shotsh shometime, okay? Okay~!"
Before Azuma could get the words out of his mouth that he was underage, and ask her to step away from the edge, her heel caught the lip, and she slowly began to roll backwards, gravity pulling her down, down towards the street, her hair slowly billowing around her as she began her descent.
Azuma didn't pause before acting. He ran and took a dive off of the rooftop, accelerated speed carrying him down. One hand caught the woman around the waist, pulling her tight to his side, as his feet and hands pressed to the glass. Azuma pushed every ounce of chakra into his gloves and sandals. He could hear them scream and feel them sear in protest at the growing heat and friction against them. Azuma closed his glazed eyes, ignoring the drunken giggling of the part girl in his arm, and the aches and pains growing from the strain in the rest of him from this drop. They began to slow, at last, reaching a stop just as he heard the woman's heels click safely on the ground below.
Azuma dared to open his eyes. He was back at street level, a crowd gathering around them. A swell of pride filled his heart as he dismounted the wall, giving the group a weary wave. There came a retching sound, as he turned, watching the party girl double over and vomit across the sidewalk.
Azuma swallowed the rising bile, and, as he sat down against a fire hydrant, smiling and returning the pats and words of gratitude for his heroic feat, found himself caring less about the attention, and more that the stranger wasn't a splatter on the sidewalk herself.
Curse this confounding maturity.
- Niento TakamiJounin
- Ryo : 59500
Mon Mar 02, 2015 12:17 am
Approved of appropriate rewards
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