</I></B>Solemnity.
Kagatsuchi Shisou wrapped his light duster around his shoulders, like he did every day, such a thing was general needed in the frosty climate of Kumogakure. He wore a simple tunic underneath, with pants that were neither dressy or casual. Around his waist he wore a standard ninja tool belt, stocked full of kunai, shuriken, and ninja wire - Shisou didn't think too much of senbon, to him they were the weapon of cowards... or marksman. Shisou had planned on going out for training this day, for he had not had to participate in this particular class. Shisou was already highly skilled with the basic ninja tools, he had several scars where Shinji had painstakingly reiterated the proper way to throw, stab, and slash with all manner of tools. So Shisou was not surprised when he was skipped over on the attendance for a kunai class. However, one could never perfect a skill without practice, so instead of going to class, Shisou decided to travel to the training grounds of the academy to practice for a few hours. At least by late afternoon Shinji would either be gone with the troupe or in a drunken stupor - Shisou wasn't partial to either one.
Shisou exited his home in a most ninja-like fashion; he jumped straight through the window, for a path through his house would have provoked an unwarranted attack from the heinous Shinji. Shisou was still healing the wounds from the last sake bottle that had been shattered over his spine - That one had a devastating effect, though Shisou didn't feel it anymore. His footsteps silent on the streets, Shisou watched the village-world unfold around him. It was a unique paradigm, here in Kumo. Everything was efficient and beautiful, but the village was the most deadly thing that Shisou could ever picture. Once again the thought of becoming a tool for this place was unsettling. Whether it was the flutter in his stomach from not eating enough, or the sheer impossibility of his life ahead of him, Shisou did not know; the only thing he did understand was the simple fact: life would never be the same again.
So those thoughts in his head, Shisou arrived at the Acadamy, the Aurora Erudito. Almost of their own accord, Shisou's limbs moved of their own accord into some semblence of a dance-like motion. Straight as a metal rod, Shisou emulated what a mechanical person would do if they were to break out in dance. 'Aurora Erudito, Mr. Roboto.' Shisou didn't know the exact origin or nature of the lyric, but it seemed as good a time as ever to put it into words, after all, that line had just been waiting for the opportune moment to be said. Shisou ended his dance soon after and set at the task he sought. With a simple vault over the fence -Shisou seriously hated going through doors and gates... anywhere normal people entered places-, Shisou entered the rear end -no, not that rear end, Shisou completely likes females- of the forest. He removed two kunai from his pouch, one for each hand. The tool felt natural in his hand; it had been modified just for him; the only gift Shinji had allowed him to keep. The grip was slightly larger to accommodate his hand size -mind out of the gutter now- and the blade was at least three inches longer than regulation, though the width of the blade was trimmed slightly. The weight sat almost directly three-fourths off-center, which made for wildly inaccurate shots when thrown straight ahead, but many times in a shinobi's career, he would not be afforded the luxury of throwing his kunai in a forward motion. The kunai were different, just as different as Shisou felt from the rest of his class. He hadn't really made a friend yet.
No use crying over spilled milk.
With a huff, Shisou launched himself at a practice dummy set up near his position. Up, down, left, left, right, maim the face, gut the stomach... Shisou's body twisted and convoluted as he struck the kunai again and again on the wooden dummy. Already the dummy had marks, Shisou used this same one whenever he came -he was only a tad bit of a narcissist. That was how his day went, six to eight calculated strikes then a quick evasion and then retreat. It was a simple game plan, but it was how any good knife fighter performed. You got in quick and then got out quicker, that way your opponent was bleeding and you were not.
"Your purpose is to kill. A tool of death. So what does that make me?" The voice carried over the quite murmur of the academy's training grounds and reached Shisou's ears. Shisou was almost physically knocked back by a blow. It was as if someone had reached into his mind and pulled out his deepest thoughts. <I>I thought I was the only one who thought about that... Shisou perked up and scanned the area around him for the source of the voice. He could not find it; Shisou set out quickly, yet stealthily, to see if he could find the student, or person, who had spoken.
His search was a quick one, on account of the academy's grounds were not too expansive, and the voice had distinctly been coming from the main grounds, the ones still clearly in sight of the main building. There Shisou found a boy training, much like Shisou had done himself thousands of times. He is the one who said that? He doesn't even seem like the type. Shisou characterized the boy as a 'pretty boy' of sorts, but he scolded himself instantly; he had no true grounds to stand on that claim yet. Then suddenly another girl appeared before Shisou had had the chance to speak out, as if this place had been sectioned off for just the two of them to speak. However, Shisou would not let that fact, or the fact that the boy and girl appeared to have prior contact, to deter him from potentially meeting someone who shared the same feelings as him.
Stepping out into the open, a half-smile -feigned of course, Shisou had serious matters on his mind- cocked on his face. <B>"Yes, a tool for killing is all the village wants you for. That is what it boils down to ultimately, no matter what you do with yourself or where you go within the village. Kumogakure no Sato wants you... wants us to become killing machines for her to use and dispatch at her very whimsy. What does that make us? I would like to fancy myself an optimist, one who will do his best to champion righteousness and justice in the face of cold murder, but everyday it gets harder to uphold that simple illusion in my mind. All I want to do is protect people, and this is the only way I know how. How about you?" Shisou cocked his head at the boy who clearly had been the one to speak the words he had heard. Then to the girl, "How do you feel about this?" This was bold for Shisou -he lacked basic skills of communication when it came to women.
