The Grand Palais was a massive construct, which housed several districts of trading, restaurants and all hobbles of business. However, on the outskirts of the Palais there existed a darkened slum, which housed a high-grade of criminal activity for those in Sunagakure to relish in. Ikkadan, dressed in his casual red-coat attire, red boots and red gloves, had unknowingly entered the 'bad' part of the Palais. He didn't really know what was going on, and to be honest, he had taken a bad turn from the mixture of two sets of memories. One set from his mother, and another set from, well, his mother.
It didn't take very long till the young teenager had found himself lost, confused and wondering aimlessly. The boy felt somewhat uncomfortable with this part of town, which was partly built up from a natural judging instinct that most people have and never learn to drop out of. Eyes being drawn to his red figure, a clear symbol of 'he's got a bit of money', and grunts from drunkards too lazy to pick up a job; let alone more pints of bog-standard beer.
"Um, does anyone know how to get out of here?" Ikkadan would ask politely, a tone lost of people of this caliber, but politely non-the-less. And it was at that point, he would attract the attention of a heavy-set man, who stumbled forward with a bottle in his hand. "Uhm, crap." Ikka would brace for impact with a clenched up, constipated look on his face, well what else could he do? He inherited Queen Obana's urge not to fight. Which was always contradicted by the temper of her Yamazaki lover: Konchuu.
Aw, balls.
It didn't take very long till the young teenager had found himself lost, confused and wondering aimlessly. The boy felt somewhat uncomfortable with this part of town, which was partly built up from a natural judging instinct that most people have and never learn to drop out of. Eyes being drawn to his red figure, a clear symbol of 'he's got a bit of money', and grunts from drunkards too lazy to pick up a job; let alone more pints of bog-standard beer.
"Um, does anyone know how to get out of here?" Ikkadan would ask politely, a tone lost of people of this caliber, but politely non-the-less. And it was at that point, he would attract the attention of a heavy-set man, who stumbled forward with a bottle in his hand. "Uhm, crap." Ikka would brace for impact with a clenched up, constipated look on his face, well what else could he do? He inherited Queen Obana's urge not to fight. Which was always contradicted by the temper of her Yamazaki lover: Konchuu.
Aw, balls.