Playing with Fire (P, Setsuna)

Amaterasu was perched on the roof once more, gazing at the world down below her. Her diminutive legs dangled over the side, small boots making soft clicks as she kicked the house. Although the childish habit had little effect on her or her life, it made her feel better about herself. Something about the motion soothed the adrenaline coursing through her veins, and she found herself relaxing. A soft tune exited her lips. She didn't particularly enjoy singing- she didn't get any emotional pleasure from the act- but having something to do helped her think. She had gone through her morning exercises already, and made sure to sweep up the ashes and charcoal from the cracked earth below. Her muscles ached pleasantly, but her travelling partner- Toshizou- was busy for the day, leaving her with nothing to do. The young sociopath frowned to herself, wondering what to do next. She leaned back, and the instant her shoulders touched the wooden roof behind her, something popped unpleasantly in her spine. She exhaled through her nose slowly, staring at the cloudless sky above. The sun beat not unpleasantly on her skin, and she found herself unsettled. She needed to do something productive. With that thought in mind, she headed down south to the border town's tavern and inn.

The instant she stepped through the raggedy doors, a faint smell of smoke, charred meat, and alcohol filled her nose. The innkeeper- an older man with an impressive beard- glanced up at her arrival, held her stare for a moment, and then looked back down towards the bar. Although she was somewhat infamous in the surrounding areas, she mostly left this side of town alone- so he probably didn't particularly care about her presence. She was fairly unobtrusive, and besides, paying customers were paying customers. She sat at a table in the back corner after a few moments in such a position that she was able to keep an eye on everyone who entered or left. No windows were at her back- just a firm wooden wall. She drummed her fingers on the piece of furniture in front of her, pulling out a piece of paper. She had robbed some merchants who came in here earlier... she made a small mark with a pencil. She had robbed a passing noble... Another mark. There was a contract out for the assassination of the leader of a small village a while away. She made a mental note to bring it up with Toshizou later. To the non discerning eye, she was merely making nonsensical scribbles- but there was a method to her madness if one cared to look. She inhaled slowly through her nose, and then out through her mouth. There was one other thing she needed to do- someone who fancied themselves a do gooder was looking into the string of robberies that had been popping up, and she was smack in the middle of them. She needed to take care of that sooner rather than later- or find someone else to do so. She glanced up at the empty chair in front of her.

If worse came to worse, she supposed she could do it herself...

WC: 532
Total WC: 532

It is said that there is a code among thieves, a courtesy expressed by those who held standards. Such standards that could an example for those on the rise to infamy. Those who seek the finer things in life, even though such a life being acquired through questionable methods, and yet still keep a character. Even in the jungle, a hunter hunts, but they do not prey upon the injured or unarmed. Such morals would have made life a bit more tolerable, perhaps? A hopeful dream to return for some, a foolish fantasy to best let die for others. But in this day and age, it is truly all forgotten. No more could one simple assume, no more could one honestly bargain. No mas. Out here in the badlands, the only thing that made any sense, dinner; and everyone was looking to get their three course meal.  

A curtain swings open, letting in the nomad who was harden by work today. His mind only fixated only on the return of his newly acquired trinkets. Basura…, Chatarra, items taken from briefly unoccupied stands. He almost resembles that of a scavenger, a vulture. His posture hunched over slightly due to the duffle bag he had strapped against his back. His slow moments towards the man behind the large wooden counter practically gave away his demeanor, although successful in his prowl, his aura was that of tired soul. But what kept him going? La Plata, the money? Or was it his background? Coming from an oppressive village, the Volcano Village, he swore he would never be under ones heel yet again. He didn’t travel miles at sea, and walked on foreign land endlessly just to end up in the same situation. An ending like that was fit for las Ovejas, the sheep who could not think for themselves. Nunca Mas, never again would, Setsuna, suffer that type of law, or any other dictatorship.

‘Mi Vida es mia’

After the judgement was made, the transaction now concluded, Setsuna is now seen leaving the rather large brown tent. Its lite construction was that to allow the owner to keep up with the ever moving Black Market. It’s core vendors that is, it wasn’t common for others to stay behind if the well wasn’t dry.  He gives one long sigh, “…Mierda”, he was tired of the chump change, and tired of always being watched. It was fortunate for, Setsuna to have had a bit of trinkets left over from his other jobs, prior to now. He wanted something more. However, the bill was soon to come for him, the debt that would be paid regardless of whether it left him breathing or not.

He counts the change that was given to him, nodding his head with a smirk that he fully realizes he could buy something to drink. Just like that, the dark aura around him lifted, but only for now. He the casually makes his way to a nearby bar, his craving craved that of tequila.

Moments later, Setsuna is seen sauntering towards the ragged door. He wanted something harsh to carry him over to the next day. As he entered, the lights revealed his attire to all the patrons. Setsuna’s attire consisted that of a sleeveless white shirt, slim fit black cargo pants, and a pair of black shoes. Setsuna’s left arm now exposed, revealing his arm sleeve of assorted tattoos on his olive skin. The theme depicted that of freedom from oppression. The tattoos however stop right above his wrist. His hazel eyes are covered with his blacked out shades, loose bracelets worn at the wrist, and his long thick wavy brown hair hung just a little past his shoulders.

As anyone who grew up in a harsh environment, the hard not life, Setsuna immediately surveyed the establishment before proceeding to the bartender. It was second nature to him, growing up in harsh environment prepared those to read faint cues. There was an assortment of people here, young and old, tough and tired. At the end of the day, it is just a bar. However, one individual did catch his eyes. A young girl whose features were a bit familiar to him, although, it seemed diluted the source spoke that of the southern islands. How fate toyed with individuals was truly a crime. Arriving at a counter, he orders a shot of tequila, and with speed it arrives to him in a second. The innkeeper being no novice to the trade of bartending. Much like this world of Shinobi, speed, was everything. He grabs it with haste after paying him his much earned ryo. He sees now how the innkeeper could keep such a magnificent beard. Setsuna somewhat envied it.

*Setsuna makes a note of the girl’s features.*

After a few glances towards the girl in question, he slowly makes his way over with a hesitant mind. There was a certain way he wanted to approach the girl, she looked that of a freshly graduated academy student. However, at the same time, this young girl could be anything, a spy, orphan, or even a con artist. Reaching a certain distance, now stopping just a few feet from the empty chair in front of her, he nods upwards before speaking. “Que tal, chica. De donde eres? From where you are from, nina”, he asked, holding the toll shot glass in his right hand. His accent is that of a latin country, strong yet enticing. His arms hang down against his side. The chance at meeting another exile from the Volcano village, could prove to be interesting. A few stories shared to pass the time.

[Word Count: 920]

A man approached her table after making his entry into the bar. A sleeveless white shirt adorned his muscled torso, and a winding black tattoo encircled his left bicep. His eyes were obscured by tinted sunglasses, so she couldn't make them out- she'd have to judge his intentions based on the stranger's other body language, then. As he walked forward, stopping around a meter away from the empty chair at her table, he opened his mouth and asked her a question. His accent was familiar- Funkagakure? It'd been a while since she'd met someone from Volcano country. Her posture didn't relax, but she found herself intrigued. "I'm from Okimura, though my father served Hidden Volcano before it fell." Amaterasu surprised herself by answering honestly. Okimura was a small fishing village around forty miles from the hidden village where she suspected he might be from. A large portion of their earnings and surplus was taxed and taken into Funka, though compensation was often sparse. It had started to grow after the village's fall, however, with many people whom she suspected were former ninja now forced to make a more honest living. Although her father had never officially disclosed his past, she had left out a bit of information. The young Meijin figured that her biological parent was an ex chuunin who turned to a deserter's lifestyle once he figured out that life under Shouten wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Was the man in front of her the same way? There was a way to find out.

"You look like a man in need of a job. Perhaps I can be of assistance?" she spoke simply, tilting her head. Her voice rang a little quieter than when she first opened her mouth, trying to keep the conversation discreet. Should the stranger seem interested, she would proceed with her offer. "A merchant family hired me to take care of their competitors- nothing too serious, of course. The details aren't important. However..." she looked up, acid yellow eyes boring into the tinted lenses he wore on his face. "They skimped on their payment." The twelve year old drummed her fingers on the table. "Murder's bad for business, so I haven't dealt with it yet myself. But perhaps someone of your talents could acquire it for me?" A pause. "There will be money in it for you, of course. Should you prove to be successful, I might have a few other jobs up your alley." That was an understatement- she knew of quite a few lucrative opportunities at the moment, but she wasn't quite willing to part with that specific bit of information until she was confident in the talents of the man before her. It occurred to Amaterasu that she didn't yet know his name. She waited a few moments, folding her arms neatly on the table. "My name is Amaterasu." she spoke simply, not revealing her surname. "May I ask for yours?" the request was simple enough, but she was genuinely curious.

WC: 502
Total WC: 1,034

Waiting and waiting, the man never responded. She sat at the table awkwardly, eventually realizing that a reply was never going to come. She sighed to herself, scratching an ear as she did so. This man... was a little weird. Eventually, she stood up and made her way to the exit of the establishment.

WC: 54
Total WC: 1,088

(Exit)

Claiming: 5 stats, 1088 words into blast wave

Approved.

[Sorry for holding up your character, bud.]

It would seem fate today was kind, its generosity for providing opportunities seemed a bit high compared to the past. Setsuna was indeed very interested in the little girl’s offer. Despite her age, her origin was enough to go with. A chance, Setsuna rarely took, but provided his current circumstances he really didn’t have much choice. He tilts his head back, dancing the hard liquor within his shot glass with finesse. Within his mind, he was counting the eggs before they hatched, thinking of a plethora of ways to put the money to use. The mission he needed to take, would require him a bit more equipment than what he currently possessed. He then finally brings the glass to his lips, right after he looked down at it. He takes the shot down with ease, grunting slightly. The burn fades, as well, as his golden opportunity.

A Moment later, Setsuna realizes that the girl had taken off. While he was in a state of disbelief, his chance for making money was gone, he took a glance down at the shot glass. “Peirdo… Que Barbaridad”, He wondered if that one shot did him in that quickly. Maybe, due to his desperation, his pondering about the offer put him in such a deep trance he forgot about his surroundings? No matter, there was nothing else for him to do, but to let go what is gone, and to move on. Setsuna would not have gotten this far away from the now ruined Volcano village, if he was stuck in the past. The only thing, Setsuna could think about doing, was to set out somewhere to sharpen his skills some more. He’d need to be sharp as a hook, In order to catch the bigger fish in the future.

Later on that day, Setsuna is seen walking down a wide dirt road, about a few miles away from the lights and tents that made up the Black Market. He fiddles with the newly purchased kunai in his right hand, pondering on what move he would want to practice with next. In the past few days, he’s been training with a few water jutsu. He grew tired of it. Too much of the same thing was bad, it’s not good for any arsenal. What, Setsuna figured, was that he needed to work on his speed to help develop his sleight of hand. Any pick pocketing thief in the world would tell you that sleight of hand is key, the one thing that could make or break a thief. As he continued his path, he thought about the time he learned the art of parry. While coincidently remembering the “Employer” owning a pair of daggers. He stops, only to pull yet another kunai from his cargo pants. Now, Setsuna wielded a pair of kunai, one in each hand. He shuffled through different grips, familiarizing himself with the blades. It was imperative for Setsuna to get accustomed to them, letting it becoming one with him. As almost all famous swordsman say, the blade is essentially an extension of one’s self. As, Setsuna continue to wave the kunai around in a circular motion, ahead of him, his attention now focused elseward. For, directly in his path, laid but a single, scorpion.

It would seem, that this would not only be yet a scorpion, but the same one that Setsuna saw the last time he was training. He stared at its armored body, its pincers too. He seemed rather interested in it, as did the scorpion to unbeknown to Setsuna. Each time, Setsuna walked out of it path. The scorpion would straddle off to the side, placing itself yet again in front of Setsuna’s path. Now stationary, and vexed, he wondered why such a small thing would do this. The scorpion then made its way towards him, flexing its pincers. It stopped a few feet in front of him. It then raised its tail, and struck the air in front of him with its stinger. To Setsuna, what was odd about this was not the tail strike itself, but how the scorpion did the jab. It did so in a circular movement. The scorpion did so yet again after clapping its pincers, as if it was trying to gain, Setsuna’s complete attention. After witnessing this, he looked down at his kunai. HE then decided to use his two Katana instead. Placing his two Kunai back into his large cargo pockets, he then grabs hold of his two sheathed Katana attached to his back. He grabbed his Katana just after he left the Inn, figuring he would need them in his training session. As he now held the two Katana, he twirled them around, only to jab forward. The Scorpion clapped it’s claws frantically, as if it was mad with, Setsuna. Apparently the Scorpion had little patience, Setsuna thought. After the Scorpion had settled down, it gathered itself, and struck its tail in the air in the same manner as before. Setsuna practiced this a few times, before hearing the scorpion give two, very loud claps with its pincers. Setsuna stopped, wondering how such a thing was capable of making such a loud noise. “Yo no… muy Strange…”, he said with his thick latin Volcano village accent. The scorpion then turned around, and left without a turning around. Setsuna did somewhat the same, as he looked back a few times. HE couldn’t quite understand what happened just now, trying to come to terms in realizing that a small creature just taught him a technique. But whatever it was, it worked. Setsuna, now twirled his blades with ease. His hands now comfortable with dual wielding. As he walked back to the black market, Setsuna wondered about what he was going to do next. Was he to start his heist now? Or would he wait and train some more? Time was definitely not on his side. His life was on the line, and the more he waited, the more his debt would increase.

As he reached his small studio, he opens the door only to find a note on the other side of it. He pulls it off as he closes it. After turning on the lights, he sees a somewhat ink bloat figure which to Setsuna, closely resembles a, scorpion. He shakes his head immediately, dismissing all the possibilities that the paper had any ties to the scorpion he saw earlier today. Setsuna proceeded to the kitchen, in search of food and called it a day.

[ Word Count: 1085 Exit, Total Word count 2005. +10 Stats, and Deflect ]

Approved.