The vow [private]

Akira Yukari

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Oct 23, 2012
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It had been six maybe seven months since the dark haired kunochi lasted layed eyes on this familiar battle ground. What was it that drew her back to this place? Perhaps it was the unfinished war that seemed to age on internally. The Kunochi's foot steps would echo down the halls of the dark empty stadium. In comparison to before, when she first walked these halls, it felt abandoned. No bright lights nor screaming crowds, spectators, no festival music... but now, silent as the grave. Nothing but the sound of each step onto the stone floors as Amaya wondered on. Greeted with the faint scent of dirt and old construction she was overcome with acute nostalgia. She'd recall the overwhelming feelings of anxiety before a fight. Every step forward was like walking into memories of old battles fought in this very amphitheater. The grand doors which led to the colosseum's center were at the very end of a dark hall. At the moment it could only be described as the light at the end of the tunnel. Amaya would shade her eyes as she entered the great doors. It was a beautiful prison with no ceiling. The sky over head was a lush blue with blankets of fluffy white clouds drifting by. The sky seemed to touch The colosseum's vacant seating boothes. They sat rather high just above the large circler walls that surrounded her. Along those walls were familair stone faces. Those great statues still stood tall watching over a now empty pit. Amaya would smile faintly as she nelt down to feel the gravel below. She'd take a hand full before grinding the gravel in her palm as it fell back to its place. Here she'd make her vow. A vow to victory. A vow to work harder. A vow to up hold the title given to her...

[Mft]
 

Miroku Riyota

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May 6, 2015
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Riyota was busy enjoying the way his whistling echoed through the empty corridors of the arena, beneath the stands. The area was constructed so perfectly, each prick put together so carefully that if one were to make a noise it would sound as if the noise circled all the way around the arena to reach their ears again. It truly was an enjoyable experience.

The young shinobi wasn't here for any particular reason. After all, he had no grudge here, no solemn oath to keep, no enemy to rematch. He had always been a spectator whenever he was here, and that was fine, he knew he was not on the league of any of the arena's champions. The grand scale their combat was always on, the ways their battles shook the very earth around them. He knew that was likely leagues above his capabilities. Thus he was content to watch.

Still, he was a craftsman, and this coliseum was a tremendous work of art in his eyes. He was merely here to take it all in, examine the sights. He continued whistling as he entered onto the combat floor. The next note was cut off by the realisation that someone else was already here. Someone seemingly preoccupied with something serious that he was on the verge of interrupting. Without another sound he pivoted and began to creep away. As he stepped his foot snapped a conveniently placed twig lying near the entranceway.