A strong gust of wind shook the North facing window of the four windowed office. The older gentleman pouring over the vast amounts of paperwork before him glanced up at the sound as if waiting for an inevitable ambush...then slowly moved his eyes back to the paper, his pen swirling the signature of his name repeatedly. At times he would pick up a marker and run it across a sentence before picking the black and gold writing utensil again.
They were all new orders, revisions, and private documents he personally redacted with a chakra specialized black sharpie that reorganized the words the ink inside struck over to keep their secrets. There was an ache in the old man’s neck, a throb in his wrist that alternated the pen and marker, and a dull fog that threatened to take his senses lingering just above his conscious. The work of writing out, covering up, and ordering assassinations was far easier than actually committing the deed itself, Uzu had learned in his time behind a desk.
Originally it wasn’t much of anything, he had thought at first entering field retirement, but as the work stacked up it became a quick realization how much the government depended on ANBU to keep the land’s peace. In a chaotic time when the enemy outside could break themselves against Sousuke’s walls again, people of all kinds of low were trying to throw their weight around. In the early months of the new job he found it simple to mark out a few lines, justify the death of a gang leader, and keep certain people he personally knew in the Underground from being touched. Now, they were moving into the power vacuum ANBU was leaving behind in a twist of irony that was giving him ulcers. It was only a matter of time before the name of an old friend was bound for his desk. This of course made his job three times more stressful than it had been at the start, and more than once had he considered a full retirement from the government just so he wouldn’t have to make the choice between country and his heart; a sentiment that quickly crushed by the knowledge that someone else would just take his place. So now he walked a thin line between betrayal and justice as he did everything in his legal authority to keep his old associates from meeting with the assassin’s blade; hence his apprehension at the North’s wind. Any day he expected to be next on that list of people to be put down, even as he penned most of it out himself.
Of course, not everything was murder and paranoia. Today he was to help celebrate his daughter’s, boyfriend’s birthday, as much as thinking the very sentence made the old killer cringe. He could still easily recall a time when he hated that demonborne cat-man, but now couldn’t help feel some kindred bond.
Michino, he quickly learned, had an odd way with people. It was nearly impossible to hate him once you got to know the giant, especially considering his apparent naivete. He acted with such innocence and had the biggest smile on in the room, but the boy was no fool; he was just a pacifist. Learning that his daughter’s lover was just a peaceful person and not some huge pushover lifted a bit of his dislike for the Toraono, but training the boy was what had cemented Uzu’s respect.
The Uzumoreru Hands of Dusk was a method of training that was meant to dull the apprentices’ emotions to a point of dead. It was a painful form of training that involved hooks, needles, and chains being shoved through very uncomfortable places in order to specially train certain reactionary muscles. Toushin had the strength of a Jounin level ninja decades before he was able to use chakra at all because of his clan’s fatal methods in training their assassins, so by all means putting the pain on someone who could use Chakra would stand to make them three times as powerful; albeit at the cost of their emotions.
But Michino? Just a big of a grin from one day to the next, no matter how painful it got; no matter what Uzu said out of spite. The dark-skinned giant just continued to show up every day, reinsert the hooks, and continue his painful training as his blood spilled. Not a single day went by that the youth ever showed his emotions beginning to wane and it simply impressed the old assassin; not that he ever showed it. His ability with a sword was wanting, but the kid’s natural talent in hand-to-hand was truly impressive and Toushin felt the youth had potential to become stronger than any of his old clan leaders.
The quick thought of Michino made the assassin turn his eyes towards the slip of paper at the corner of his desk with his daughter’s writing that was a personal invitation to a party being thrown out of the Steward’s home, apparently as was tradition, and a present recommendation. Uzu picked up the folded paper, flicked it open with his thumb, and read the beautifully scripted letters with a smile. Chiyoko had suggested a sword, perhaps one made with the same Takahashi Steel his own two blades were crafted from but the assassin had a better idea. Try as he might, Michino had already peaked as a swordsman and could no longer advance. His skill was exceptional, and definitely good enough to warrant teaching it in the Academy, but it wasn’t what his body was naturally made for; Uzu was slowly beating that into him.
Pulling open a drawer from his desk on his left side, he checked to make sure the gift was still there. It was a wooden box about the size small jewelry chest, made from a rare type of tree imported from the Fire Country that, as one turned it with the light, they would see golden scrawl all across it that was naturally created inside of the tree as it grew. Inside were two things that the Uzumoreru was gifting to the young man, one that meant something deeply to him and the other he hoped would help push the fool away from swords.
A curt knock on his office door tore the assassin away from his old man musings to resettle back into reality. With a simple word he allowed entrance to the young girl dressed in ANBU fatigues but without the mask; a trainee. She had long red hair braided into a tight bun against her head and pale skin that was unnatural to the desert element, but the assassin immediately noted her complexion wasn’t one completely due to genetics. In her hands was a small folder clutched tight in her hands with a pained expression, and the old killer made a motion with his hand for her to place them on his desk; she complied as if the folder was a viscous animal best left undisturbed. Snatching it off the desk in frustration he flipped it opened to read the small paragraph of information. His eyes immediately switched up to the ghost-pale AiT who had now broken out in a cold sweat.
“Report to your superior immediately and tell them you read it. I’ll have the Commander come up with a punishment later. Run,” he growled. The girl turned heel and jetted out immediately, leaving a palpable sense of fear in the air. Toushin sighed after she left, his tired expression on the open door slowly swinging further the wrong direction. Pushing his chair back with his legs when he stood up, the old assassin walked up to close the door, but paused suddenly at the sight of the empty office standing before him.
So many of the ANBU operatives had been moved to the field in the recent years from the casualties of war. Men and women who were taken off the field originally due to an old injury or because they were never suited for direct combat but were master code-breakers. Those poor fools, they, were now deep in the shit Uzu had managed to climb out of; and his heart ached for them. Since then, the work they left behind had all been hoisted on the old man, filling his days with all of Suna’s secrets as he attempted hard to appease everyone necessary to keep the city going. He only wondered how much longer they could all take it as it now stood, trapped behind the steel walls.
For a moment he started to close the door but then stopped. Returning to his desk, the ex-operative removed the gift from the still open drawer and picked up the folder before tucking it inside of his coat. In a single motion the old shinobi slipped into his jacket while closing and locking his office door in the same motion. With three steps he cross the entire office and slipped out a window from the Kazekage tower he was working from.
Five minutes later and the assassin was quietly stalking the Diamond District, walking down the familiar street where his old rival lived. Tama’s ex-wife and daughter were out in their small front yard tending to a garden. The latter of the two waved and shouted a greeting that Toushin returned with a simple nod and hand wave as he turned to walk up to the Takahashi’s ranch-style home and rapped his knuckles against their front door. No doubt they were under way of preparing for Michino’s birthday already, since apparently it was quite the event full of board games and good food, but preparing for a celebration was not the reason he had showed up early to Sousuke’s door. The news in the folder needed to be brought directly to either the Kazekage’s attention or the Steward’s, with one of them a little easier to get a hold of than the other. Sousuke was almost always at his home after a certain time, and since Uzu tended to stay behind well after office hours, it was most likely the old tin can was probably here. With any luck, honestly, the assassin might catch both. Sousuke’s home was something of a home to more than just himself and his family, and a number of people went in and out. To find the Kazekage here for any reason, honestly, wouldn’t surprise Toushin in the least.
[MFT]
[WC = 1000+]
They were all new orders, revisions, and private documents he personally redacted with a chakra specialized black sharpie that reorganized the words the ink inside struck over to keep their secrets. There was an ache in the old man’s neck, a throb in his wrist that alternated the pen and marker, and a dull fog that threatened to take his senses lingering just above his conscious. The work of writing out, covering up, and ordering assassinations was far easier than actually committing the deed itself, Uzu had learned in his time behind a desk.
Originally it wasn’t much of anything, he had thought at first entering field retirement, but as the work stacked up it became a quick realization how much the government depended on ANBU to keep the land’s peace. In a chaotic time when the enemy outside could break themselves against Sousuke’s walls again, people of all kinds of low were trying to throw their weight around. In the early months of the new job he found it simple to mark out a few lines, justify the death of a gang leader, and keep certain people he personally knew in the Underground from being touched. Now, they were moving into the power vacuum ANBU was leaving behind in a twist of irony that was giving him ulcers. It was only a matter of time before the name of an old friend was bound for his desk. This of course made his job three times more stressful than it had been at the start, and more than once had he considered a full retirement from the government just so he wouldn’t have to make the choice between country and his heart; a sentiment that quickly crushed by the knowledge that someone else would just take his place. So now he walked a thin line between betrayal and justice as he did everything in his legal authority to keep his old associates from meeting with the assassin’s blade; hence his apprehension at the North’s wind. Any day he expected to be next on that list of people to be put down, even as he penned most of it out himself.
Of course, not everything was murder and paranoia. Today he was to help celebrate his daughter’s, boyfriend’s birthday, as much as thinking the very sentence made the old killer cringe. He could still easily recall a time when he hated that demonborne cat-man, but now couldn’t help feel some kindred bond.
Michino, he quickly learned, had an odd way with people. It was nearly impossible to hate him once you got to know the giant, especially considering his apparent naivete. He acted with such innocence and had the biggest smile on in the room, but the boy was no fool; he was just a pacifist. Learning that his daughter’s lover was just a peaceful person and not some huge pushover lifted a bit of his dislike for the Toraono, but training the boy was what had cemented Uzu’s respect.
The Uzumoreru Hands of Dusk was a method of training that was meant to dull the apprentices’ emotions to a point of dead. It was a painful form of training that involved hooks, needles, and chains being shoved through very uncomfortable places in order to specially train certain reactionary muscles. Toushin had the strength of a Jounin level ninja decades before he was able to use chakra at all because of his clan’s fatal methods in training their assassins, so by all means putting the pain on someone who could use Chakra would stand to make them three times as powerful; albeit at the cost of their emotions.
But Michino? Just a big of a grin from one day to the next, no matter how painful it got; no matter what Uzu said out of spite. The dark-skinned giant just continued to show up every day, reinsert the hooks, and continue his painful training as his blood spilled. Not a single day went by that the youth ever showed his emotions beginning to wane and it simply impressed the old assassin; not that he ever showed it. His ability with a sword was wanting, but the kid’s natural talent in hand-to-hand was truly impressive and Toushin felt the youth had potential to become stronger than any of his old clan leaders.
The quick thought of Michino made the assassin turn his eyes towards the slip of paper at the corner of his desk with his daughter’s writing that was a personal invitation to a party being thrown out of the Steward’s home, apparently as was tradition, and a present recommendation. Uzu picked up the folded paper, flicked it open with his thumb, and read the beautifully scripted letters with a smile. Chiyoko had suggested a sword, perhaps one made with the same Takahashi Steel his own two blades were crafted from but the assassin had a better idea. Try as he might, Michino had already peaked as a swordsman and could no longer advance. His skill was exceptional, and definitely good enough to warrant teaching it in the Academy, but it wasn’t what his body was naturally made for; Uzu was slowly beating that into him.
Pulling open a drawer from his desk on his left side, he checked to make sure the gift was still there. It was a wooden box about the size small jewelry chest, made from a rare type of tree imported from the Fire Country that, as one turned it with the light, they would see golden scrawl all across it that was naturally created inside of the tree as it grew. Inside were two things that the Uzumoreru was gifting to the young man, one that meant something deeply to him and the other he hoped would help push the fool away from swords.
A curt knock on his office door tore the assassin away from his old man musings to resettle back into reality. With a simple word he allowed entrance to the young girl dressed in ANBU fatigues but without the mask; a trainee. She had long red hair braided into a tight bun against her head and pale skin that was unnatural to the desert element, but the assassin immediately noted her complexion wasn’t one completely due to genetics. In her hands was a small folder clutched tight in her hands with a pained expression, and the old killer made a motion with his hand for her to place them on his desk; she complied as if the folder was a viscous animal best left undisturbed. Snatching it off the desk in frustration he flipped it opened to read the small paragraph of information. His eyes immediately switched up to the ghost-pale AiT who had now broken out in a cold sweat.
“Report to your superior immediately and tell them you read it. I’ll have the Commander come up with a punishment later. Run,” he growled. The girl turned heel and jetted out immediately, leaving a palpable sense of fear in the air. Toushin sighed after she left, his tired expression on the open door slowly swinging further the wrong direction. Pushing his chair back with his legs when he stood up, the old assassin walked up to close the door, but paused suddenly at the sight of the empty office standing before him.
So many of the ANBU operatives had been moved to the field in the recent years from the casualties of war. Men and women who were taken off the field originally due to an old injury or because they were never suited for direct combat but were master code-breakers. Those poor fools, they, were now deep in the shit Uzu had managed to climb out of; and his heart ached for them. Since then, the work they left behind had all been hoisted on the old man, filling his days with all of Suna’s secrets as he attempted hard to appease everyone necessary to keep the city going. He only wondered how much longer they could all take it as it now stood, trapped behind the steel walls.
For a moment he started to close the door but then stopped. Returning to his desk, the ex-operative removed the gift from the still open drawer and picked up the folder before tucking it inside of his coat. In a single motion the old shinobi slipped into his jacket while closing and locking his office door in the same motion. With three steps he cross the entire office and slipped out a window from the Kazekage tower he was working from.
Five minutes later and the assassin was quietly stalking the Diamond District, walking down the familiar street where his old rival lived. Tama’s ex-wife and daughter were out in their small front yard tending to a garden. The latter of the two waved and shouted a greeting that Toushin returned with a simple nod and hand wave as he turned to walk up to the Takahashi’s ranch-style home and rapped his knuckles against their front door. No doubt they were under way of preparing for Michino’s birthday already, since apparently it was quite the event full of board games and good food, but preparing for a celebration was not the reason he had showed up early to Sousuke’s door. The news in the folder needed to be brought directly to either the Kazekage’s attention or the Steward’s, with one of them a little easier to get a hold of than the other. Sousuke was almost always at his home after a certain time, and since Uzu tended to stay behind well after office hours, it was most likely the old tin can was probably here. With any luck, honestly, the assassin might catch both. Sousuke’s home was something of a home to more than just himself and his family, and a number of people went in and out. To find the Kazekage here for any reason, honestly, wouldn’t surprise Toushin in the least.
[MFT]
[WC = 1000+]
