Gulls cawed, waves crashed, and the salty brine of the air coated everything in a thin layer of crust. It was early morning, just as the sun was rising, and a slow wind crept through every street, alley, and passageway in the city — it smelled like autumn, itself. Brilliant red and yellow hues washed over the dark, sleeping city, ushering in a new day for everyone. Many were snuggled up in their beds, all warm and tight. Others had already started their day, either hard at work or busily preparing for events to come. Everyone in Sora had a duty, a purpose, a calling, or a reason for being. Truly, this was a paradise on earth.
Everyone except one, that is.
The dockhands had started to have some trouble as of late with denizens taking residence on their pier. They showed up out of nowhere one day, then refused to leave. They took up space, didn’t clean after themselves, and were rude to the people around them. Up until now, the dockhands had slowly managed to weed out some of the more problematic trespassers with petty charges — all that was left was one stubborn old man who seemed to do nothing but sit and listen. Technically, he had done nothing wrong; yet, he still needed to be gone. This man, in particular, was the target of two dockworkers who were determined to finally rid their pier of what they viewed to be an infestation. The pair trudged up to the sleeping old man, regarding his ragged dirty clothes, empty liquor bottles, and unwashed beard and hair, with a little more than a bit of disgust.
”C’mon, ya old geezer,” groaned one of the men, a touch of sympathy and compassion in his voice. "Ya can't stay 'ere any more, okay? Yer gonna have to leave.”
"An' don't make us do things the hard way, neither, ya hear?” The other man boomed, loudly and impatiently. Out of nowhere, the first man's hand came up behind his friend's head and gave it a proper thunking. "Ouch!” The second man cried out. "Whadid ya do that for?”
"Quiet you!” The first man snipped, obviously used to having dealt with his friend's brutish outbursts. "I told you not to be doin' that no more. Sora ain't the kinda place for that nonsense.” He turned back to the old man, who was slowly awakening from all the ruckus these two had caused. ”Sorry ‘bout him, he can be a lil rough around the edges. We still do still need ya to leave, though.” The old man was sitting up by now, regarding the two men who loomed over him with a regretful disdain, mixed with polite understanding.
“Yous twos is just doin’ yous jobs. I dun wanna cause yous twos no trouble.” The old bag of bones extended a thin, ragged, hand. His skin looked paper thin, and his musculature looked worn and forgotten. “How’s about yous helpin’ a poor ol’ man up, eh?” The first man smiled, genuinely, and instantly moved to help. The second man stayed behind, shooting his friend an aggravated look as he tapped his foot ever so slightly.
“Of course, ol’ timer. Here, just gimme your hand…” Big mistake, my friend.
Their hands made contact. The first man seemed to space out for a moment, as if he’d forgotten what he was doing, then let go. Uneasy terror began to manifest in his eyes. Seconds more, and the terror was replaced by a stupid grin — the first man continued where he left off, pulling the old man up to his feet. When he spoke, it was with a flat tone and no sense of worry or awareness of the weirdness of his actions. “You know what, ol’ man? I’mma do ya one better.” Reaching into his pocket, still with that thousand yard stare, he produced a small key: it locked and unlocked the main building of the dockyards. “You're a good man, yanno? Be sure to buy yourself somethin’ nice, ya hear?”
With that, he waved a goodbye to the old man as he and his friend walked away. The second man looked bothered by something, speaking quietly only after they’d moved away from the old man. “Hey, what was that you gave him before you left?”
“Oh, just some coins. Thought he could use a good meal.”
The man wasn’t lying, he really believed that. Unfortunately for him, this hadn’t been any old man — disguised, by means of the Transformation technique, Yatamaru was hiding in plain sight among the rabble of Sora. He’d spent a few days here now, waiting for things to settle down before he struck. In that time, he’d learned many things; though, not quite as much as he’d have liked. He’d been hoping that the dockhand might have known something good, and was why he’d used the Mental Infiltration technique on him. No such luck, though. Still, he managed to trick the man into surrendering his key the Shipyard with some low-level Genjutsu — maybe there’d be something worth while there?
Dusting himself off, the ANBU disguised as an old, homeless, man had much work to do. He’d come for information on The Sovereign, and would also like to be able to sabotage some of their war materials if he could. If I were plotting to attack and destroy my political neighbors, where would I hide the information for my most powerful personal army? For some reason, his mental brainstorming wasn’t exactly producing any useful leads. Oh well, I'm sure some information will pop up eventually.
The disguised man took a moment to appreciate this morning. To feel the breeze. To taste and smell the salt. He may not have a body, but he still appreciated the little things. There won’t be much time to enjoy these sorts of things once the fighting really starts. Yatamaru tried to push such thoughts out of his mind. He was here to prevent conflict, not ruminate over its inevitability. He would need to press on.
If only he could just figure out where it was he should go from here.
OOC Notes:
Using Discovey of Contract of Your Choice, bought [here], to find the Tsukumogami Contract.
Everyone except one, that is.
The dockhands had started to have some trouble as of late with denizens taking residence on their pier. They showed up out of nowhere one day, then refused to leave. They took up space, didn’t clean after themselves, and were rude to the people around them. Up until now, the dockhands had slowly managed to weed out some of the more problematic trespassers with petty charges — all that was left was one stubborn old man who seemed to do nothing but sit and listen. Technically, he had done nothing wrong; yet, he still needed to be gone. This man, in particular, was the target of two dockworkers who were determined to finally rid their pier of what they viewed to be an infestation. The pair trudged up to the sleeping old man, regarding his ragged dirty clothes, empty liquor bottles, and unwashed beard and hair, with a little more than a bit of disgust.
”C’mon, ya old geezer,” groaned one of the men, a touch of sympathy and compassion in his voice. "Ya can't stay 'ere any more, okay? Yer gonna have to leave.”
"An' don't make us do things the hard way, neither, ya hear?” The other man boomed, loudly and impatiently. Out of nowhere, the first man's hand came up behind his friend's head and gave it a proper thunking. "Ouch!” The second man cried out. "Whadid ya do that for?”
"Quiet you!” The first man snipped, obviously used to having dealt with his friend's brutish outbursts. "I told you not to be doin' that no more. Sora ain't the kinda place for that nonsense.” He turned back to the old man, who was slowly awakening from all the ruckus these two had caused. ”Sorry ‘bout him, he can be a lil rough around the edges. We still do still need ya to leave, though.” The old man was sitting up by now, regarding the two men who loomed over him with a regretful disdain, mixed with polite understanding.
“Yous twos is just doin’ yous jobs. I dun wanna cause yous twos no trouble.” The old bag of bones extended a thin, ragged, hand. His skin looked paper thin, and his musculature looked worn and forgotten. “How’s about yous helpin’ a poor ol’ man up, eh?” The first man smiled, genuinely, and instantly moved to help. The second man stayed behind, shooting his friend an aggravated look as he tapped his foot ever so slightly.
“Of course, ol’ timer. Here, just gimme your hand…” Big mistake, my friend.
Their hands made contact. The first man seemed to space out for a moment, as if he’d forgotten what he was doing, then let go. Uneasy terror began to manifest in his eyes. Seconds more, and the terror was replaced by a stupid grin — the first man continued where he left off, pulling the old man up to his feet. When he spoke, it was with a flat tone and no sense of worry or awareness of the weirdness of his actions. “You know what, ol’ man? I’mma do ya one better.” Reaching into his pocket, still with that thousand yard stare, he produced a small key: it locked and unlocked the main building of the dockyards. “You're a good man, yanno? Be sure to buy yourself somethin’ nice, ya hear?”
With that, he waved a goodbye to the old man as he and his friend walked away. The second man looked bothered by something, speaking quietly only after they’d moved away from the old man. “Hey, what was that you gave him before you left?”
“Oh, just some coins. Thought he could use a good meal.”
The man wasn’t lying, he really believed that. Unfortunately for him, this hadn’t been any old man — disguised, by means of the Transformation technique, Yatamaru was hiding in plain sight among the rabble of Sora. He’d spent a few days here now, waiting for things to settle down before he struck. In that time, he’d learned many things; though, not quite as much as he’d have liked. He’d been hoping that the dockhand might have known something good, and was why he’d used the Mental Infiltration technique on him. No such luck, though. Still, he managed to trick the man into surrendering his key the Shipyard with some low-level Genjutsu — maybe there’d be something worth while there?
Dusting himself off, the ANBU disguised as an old, homeless, man had much work to do. He’d come for information on The Sovereign, and would also like to be able to sabotage some of their war materials if he could. If I were plotting to attack and destroy my political neighbors, where would I hide the information for my most powerful personal army? For some reason, his mental brainstorming wasn’t exactly producing any useful leads. Oh well, I'm sure some information will pop up eventually.
The disguised man took a moment to appreciate this morning. To feel the breeze. To taste and smell the salt. He may not have a body, but he still appreciated the little things. There won’t be much time to enjoy these sorts of things once the fighting really starts. Yatamaru tried to push such thoughts out of his mind. He was here to prevent conflict, not ruminate over its inevitability. He would need to press on.
If only he could just figure out where it was he should go from here.
OOC Notes:
Using Discovey of Contract of Your Choice, bought [here], to find the Tsukumogami Contract.