Ninpocho Chronicles

Ninpocho Chronicles is a fantasy-ish setting storyline, set in an alternate universe World of Ninjas, where the Naruto and Boruto series take place. This means that none of the canon characters exists, or existed here.

Each ninja starts from the bottom and start their training as an Academy Student. From there they develop abilities akin to that of demigods as they grow in age and experience.

Along the way they gain new friends (or enemies), take on jobs and complete contracts and missions for their respective villages where their training and skill will be tested to their limits.

The sky is the limit as the blank page you see before you can be filled with countless of adventures with your character in the game.

This is Ninpocho Chronicles.

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Within His Grasp [Retirement]

Ryuu Rei

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Toraono Michino stood outside the walls, just a few feet away from the hidden entrance, as he stared off towards the East to watch the rising dawn. The cold wind of the previous night swirled around him as with one hand he tugged the wool cloak a little tighter and the other he brought clay mug of hot beverage to his lips. Surrounding him was broken arrows from the battlefield that had taken place here barely over a month ago now. He had missed the final moments of the battle, but thankfully the lack of his presence didn’t cost the Sunan military any casualties. Even his own clan had been well looked after by Kasen, who was promoted to Medical Chief in his time away, and for that he owed her a great deal. Not a single member of the Toraono fell to the Swarm, but of all of those that fought, not a single one of them had been any of the other Toraono clan heirs fighting. It angered him to know that, even though he overcame his fear and disability, his once legendary clan was still struggling to stay relevant. It was time for him to make the decision he had been partly dreading now since Kuro called them all to the Throne. Someone needed to take leadership of the Toraono, but more than that, they needed to bring back together the once unbreakable family bonds. Since the fall of of their last leader and the vanishing of another, combined with their lack of presence in other events, the clan name continued to stay mired.
It wasn’t all bad though. In his lifetime, Michino had managed to gather enough support and love from his extensive family that a great deal of them showed up before the walls just because they knew he would be there. For the first time in years the Toraono helped really fight back, even if he hadn’t been there for the final blow, and it spoke to the young man. Part of his trepidation of becoming the leader of the Toraono was the worry of him stepping away from his current duties as a soldier. He worried without his nearly unkillable presence on the field, the courage of his clan would waver, and he would be forced to play politics as the leader to encourage his family again. From their efforts against the Swarm, that was now a problem far away from the mind of Michino. Now the problems he faced was what it was going to take to reunite the multiple family branches back into a single clan.
There was at least three to four possible heirs to the Throne. Once there was talk of a council and for the main body of the Toraono to be ruled by not one, but all the heirs, however, Michino doubted that the mystical Throne and the Orb that held their greatest clan secrets would be willing to allow more than one ruler. Thus one of them needed to take it upon their character to start gathering support and ascend as the only choice as the next in line to seat upon the Throne of Bone.
Lifting the beverage to his lips one last time the soldier drained the dark hot liquids inside and crouched down on his one leg to placed the clay mug down into the sand. With a few twists of his wrists he dug it down between some arrows and stood back up, a determined look in his purple irises. The first person he needed to talk to and gain respect from was the Lord of Thunder, a member of his family he wasn’t overly fond of, but neither was he overly fond of coffee. Yet the empty mug sat in the dunes among the broken weapons, and in it he found some inspiration to begin chatting up one of his uncles. Slowly the warrior turned back from the rising sun and gathered his cloak a little tighter as purple flames burst from his left stump to form a leg to walk with.

It was time to grow up.

[Retired]
 

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