NPC: AYATSURI GINJIROBGM: Ginjiro's Theme
The cheering from the crowds was deafening. That was to be expected, seeing as how he was at the single largest event in recent human history.
Ginjiro had been wandering the lands for some time now. Learning, watching, waiting, and biding his time for the right moment to re-enter the world. When he'd heard of the tournament, he had initially been skeptical. Not one to trust the system, he'd disregarded the whole thing as a shame, a ploy, and a plot. Then he heard that Konoha would be competing. Instantly, his mind changed.
He'd been living off the land, secluded from much of society, and had yet to hear of the great news. His home, Konoha, had reopened the great Phoenix Gates to its brethren once more. When he'd heard the news, he couldn't help but shed a tear in joy. He had to see it for himself: the new generation of the Will of Fire. He'd spent the last few days in Tea Country trying to gather any information that he could. Who was the new Hokage? What had happened to the Samurai that had held his home hostage? How soon could he try to return home? There was still the issue of his brother, Ayatsuri Katsu, but that could be sorted in time. He was sure that, given the chance to speak with a representative of Leaf, he'd be able to get things sorted out. They'd help him restore his clan's honor, and drive out that parasite of a clan dictator. Surely the Ayatasuri Clan still was remembered in the Land of Fire as a worthy and respectable people.
The Ayatsuri puppeteer was very interested to see what sort of warriors Konoha boasted of these days. He was practically bursting with excitement, even though his calm exterior showed no signs of favoritism. To the world at large, he was a young foreigner that looked a bit rough around the edges. By now, it had been more than a decade since he'd left — rather, been forced from — his home. He remembered it all too well: Katsu's violent takeover of the clan, followed by the painful rehabilitation process of his right arm, followed even more closely by the Daimyo's crushing attack on his home. It had all happened, one after the other, in such rapid succession. But that was all in the past, now. With so much time having passed, he was anxious to see what the new generation was like.
When he'd heard the first match was going to between a Leaf Shinobi and a Sunan Puppeteer, he thought the gods were finally smiling down upon him. He thanked his Kami brethren for such an auspicious gift, settling himself in for a fun and interesting match. However, when the match had begun, he'd instantly felt his stomach drop out from under him.
'No...that's not possible...'
And yet, there he was. He was acting different, but that was him. He recognized that face anywhere. But, that was impossible! His mind was spinning. His silver, metallic, right arm clenched tightly, threatening to crush the armrest of the seat between his mechanical fingers — the ones that man had forced upon him. The Ayatsuri puppeteer couldn't believe it: this Leaf Shinobi was fighting his older brother! Or, at least, a man who looked just like him.
"No, calm down..." he spoke softly to himself. He needed more information. He couldn't just jump to conclusions. "Oda Yatamaru, huh? Kami, why do you mock me so?"
