[Invasion] When the Days are Cold [Open]
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HotelBravo
- Posts: 389
- Joined: Thu Jul 07, 2022 11:12 pm
[Invasion] When the Days are Cold [Open]
War had begun to spread across the land again. It was a tragedy, and one that Akiko had hoped she would never have to live through again. Kasuri was missing and that made Akiko all the more anxious about the current situation. She couldn’t do anything about that now. Kasuri was so far away. Akiko cursed herself and her family’s stupid traditions. She had wanted to be a mother since she was a little girl, but she had met Kasuri on a mission together against some bandits and it had changed the way she had thought about women. Kasuri was always patient with Akiko’s dreams about wanting to be a mother and start a little family, but Akiko only realized now that Akiko was missing that she wanted Kasuri more than that dream. Maybe they could adopt and she could still be a mother? Akiko had cursed herself over and over again in her own head. She said a prayer to the kami of her family shrine and hoped that some gods would look out for Kasuri. What about Ayago? She had been a kami right? In the world of ninja, Weapons with spirits and Genma changed hands so frequently. Even the gods were powerless before the might of Shinobi.
DAMN THEM! DAMN THOSE SHINOBI! DAMN THEM FOR TAKING KASURI AND DAMN THEM FOR STARTING THIS WAR!
”Excuse me miss? Are you all right?” The voice of an elderly woman snapped Akiko out of her torpor. It reminded of where she was and why she was here. The here being a Refugee camp that had been set up by the Heart Empire to handle the people fleeing from the war. It was spring in Tea Country, and this meant it was also the rainy season for this side of the world. The Camp was formed of lines of tents with a fence around the perimeter. The fence was to deter wild animals more than refugees. Samurai patrolled the areas to keep order as people grew desperate and fought over resources. Akiko was at a pagoda that had large canvas roofs spread over the open ground to provide shelter from the rain. It protected Akiko and kept her dry while she worked, but she couldn’t help but look at the line of Refugees that surpassed the protection of the tent. They stood in the rain, huddled together for warmth against the chilling precipitation. All were waiting for their opportunity to have their bowls filled with nourishment.
Akiko was given the sacred duty of distributing of the rice and curry to these poor people who had abandoned their homes. Who could blame them? When God’s who controlled space and time as well as the natural world around them with nary a thought danced on the field of battle, there were few who could join such a play. Akiko wanted to join that grand opera. She wanted to be doing anything other than serving the poor and starving right here and now. She wanted to be out in the world, her sword slick and wet with the blood of shinobi for the things they had down to Shark, Tea, and River. A darkness had taken root in her heart and she presumed that she would never be able to see good in the world again or have any kind of joy.
Thank you miss. A young boy and his sister huddled as Akiko placed rice and curry into their bowls and they proceeded on. She felt a great tenderness for the children, and looked upon the long line that had still to come and she wiped her tears on the collar of her Kimono, she couldn’t cry here. No matter how much she had wanted to, she couldn’t cry no matter what.
600 /600 - Group Training
+1 Chakra Pool
[Invasion] When the Days are Cold [Open]
The world was war, wasn't it? It was hard to see it any other way for Suzuko, probably right around the age of thirteen by this point, whose life had been embroiled in two wars already. Certainly, she'd been so little that the only thing she really remembered of the first war was that she'd been sent away for safety, and that the Mizutane had locked her away and kept her fed while they waged battle in some misbegotten ideal that they could hold a candle by themselves against one of the grand five villages. It had led to such a negative movement within the country that they'd lost it entirely, and instead turned on their own minor country brethren in Shark Country to find a new home.
She'd suffered indirectly from the war. Her mother was gone, nobody seemed to really have an idea where except that she was likely in Water Country if she was still alive at all, and relations between the two countries were strenuous at best, even with recent diplomacy attempts. She might never see her again. She didn't know who her father was, either, a bastard child raised as a noble, a man she may have gotten to know well if not separated like this from her mother, and now she may never know. The new war was less hurtful in the grand scheme of things, for Suzuko specifically, but that didn't make it easy.
Recently promoted to Fuyubushi, she'd been being run ragged with the declaration of war, pulling double duty monitoring roads for troops moving through them, more to be able to report in case they were caught sacking villages for supplies than anything else, and keeping an eye on refugees as she was doing now. Unfortunately, Suzuko's empathetic chakra in large groups felt emotionally exhausting, especially when many of them were experiencing, unsurprisingly, rather strong emotions when being displaced from their homes. Then again, it wasn't just the refugees experiencing strong emotions. Of all the strings that connected her to those around her, one tugged harder than the rest.
The ethereal, empathic tether coiled around Suzuko's being, constricting her with an otherworldly grasp that threatened to suffocate her very essence. It surged like a tempest, a relentless force that tore through her like a hurricane unleashed upon a tranquil shore. Its inky tendrils smothered the light within her, its deafening cries reverberating through the fabric of existence, a symphony of anguish that resonated with the weight of the world.
But it was not merely wrath that coursed through this spectral conduit. No, it bore the burden of unspoken sorrows, a lament without a discernible origin. Within this maelstrom of emotions, Suzuko felt the echo of a soul in turmoil, a kindred spirit shrouded in the veil of despair. The thread of empathy led her to a phantom, a figure that eluded her senses—a figure bound by the tangled web of fate, its presence haunting her like a specter in the night. In the heart of this enigma, Suzuko grappled with the enigmatic convergence of her own emotions and those of the elusive apparition. As the spectral thread bound them in an intricate dance, she found herself ensnared in a tapestry of profound connection, a connection that transcended the boundaries of time and space, intertwining their fates in an inexorable embrace.
The elusive apparition was not all that was there, and yet its strong pull was something that Suzuko could not deny. She gulped and felt like she needed to cut the string that connected them, sever it and ignore it, move on, leave it, stop, abscond, please, leave, this pain is too much...
And yet she stepped into the tent anyway, damp with the tears of the sky. She couldn't save everyone, but maybe this cursed empathy of hers would show her who needed the most help. She stared at the pink girl for a few moments before looking away. She could force emotions on others, but to do so, was it even right? Even if they were positive emotions, would doing so really help anyone in the long run? A drop of water cannot be absorbed by ground that has been solidified by years of no rain. She needed to pull from elsewhere, she needed it to be real, to be raw, she needed to take the threads of those around her, use that energy. The more gentle gray strands of connection pulsated as she searched through them. So much pain and suffering, how could one keep up? Where was the good? Was there even any to be found?
Ah, but there it was. The very same children the apparition had given rations to had more than sadness and grief inside of them, something new, something bright. Hope. She stepped closer to the boiling, knotted apparition, and made an effort to catch its attention. Suzuko may not have been world-wise but if there was one thing that couldn't be easily hidden from her it was the human emotion, her empathy sucked it into her brain whether she wanted it or not. "Hi there." She opened, unsure of where even to begin, but then decided why begin with words, when she could tug on the knot a bit first? With a gentle nudge, she attempted to redirect Akiko's attention to the pair of children, who were sharing their meals happily, gently talking about not the now, but the future. She grabbed the threads of all three with her mind, and keeping herself as a barrier between them to prevent the children from feeling the girl in pink's negative emotions, she fed her some of their prominent positive emotion: Hope.
She couldn't promise there would be a better tomorrow, but the hope of having one was worth more than a promise ever could be.
[Control +1]
Last edited by Nick on Sun Feb 11, 2024 11:41 am, edited 1 time in total.
"It's so sad!" the reader said to the writer with a frown. "The character in my book just died!" The author turned to her and burst out into tears, "I know!" he said, "So did mine!"
Ninja Info CardsShow
 | Suzuko Just another girl |
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HotelBravo
- Posts: 389
- Joined: Thu Jul 07, 2022 11:12 pm
[Invasion] When the Days are Cold [Open]
Akiko hid her anger from her expression as she relied on her discipline to force a kind and smiling face on for the people she was serving. She was a silk hiding steel. Bloody, Bloody, Steel. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw someone stepping beside her on the server side of the table. "Hi there." The girl opened the conversation. The girl had sharp features, but was young. Younger than Akiko at least. Dark Brown hair, a bit messy, but in a ponytail. Akiko took a mental inventory of the young woman. The quality of her clothing was quite good implying that she came from a wealthy family, but the way she carried herself didn’t seem to match that noble birth. While Akiko didn’t approve, it did not mean that she would be any less polite. From the way she stood and her body language Akiko got the impression that this girl was the energetic type. It was always nice to meet someone so spirited!
”Excuse me, Hello! ” Akiko set the ladle down so she could perform a proper bow to the woman, bending at the waist. ”Was there something I can do for you?” The genuine concern flooded her voice as she spoke. She did see the line begin to get anxious, and so Akiko gestured to one of the staff that was working with her. ”Thank you - Please cover for me for just a minute.” she told the other volunteer. Akiko stepped away from the line and looked at Suzuko with an expectant glance. What could this girl want? Akiko had not really noticed the change from her mood from Anger to hope because she normally didn’t feel so vengeful. She genuinely liked people and didn’t mind taking her time to step aside and talk to someone who had questions or wanted to talk to her. ”Oh! Excuse me. My name is Akiko, Akibushi. ” How rude of her! Akiko felt a little ashamed that she hadn’t immediately introduced herself. This young woman was someone that she wasn’t familiar with so it was only appropriate to make an introduction.
Suzuko seemed to indicate towards the children that had taken the food before. Akiko looked over at the children. Simple and innocent enjoying the meager comforts that were able to be provided by this camp. It was a pitiful sight really. And yet there was hope. Akiko paused. Something didn’t really… feel… right. She was confused because her mind and heart were in disagreement about what she should be feeling. She didn’t feel pity or sadnes when looking at their struggle but instead hope. Why was she feeling hopeful? Akiko turned her head back to Suzuko and gave her a greater deal of discernment, looking for something. She knew that Shinobi were infamous for their genjutsu. She couldn’t really understand why someone might want to do this to her. No, someone wouldn’t do this to her. She was just feeling hope because they were… Confusion again. The emotions didn’t match her logic. Akiko pursed her lips, starting feel a sense of vertigo.
”I’m sorry. I think I may need to sit down.” Akiko had begun to grow even paler than she already was. She walked over to a bench that was being used currently by the administration the food supplies off the ground, but Akiko was petite enough that she found a place to sit in between the supplies and held head with her hand with as much dignity as she could manage. She really started to feel nausea, and yet there was still that feeling of hope which made her feel more nausea because it was just too discordant. Akiko felt her head to check for a fever. She didn’t feel like she had one, but she had to lean on the storage crates for support. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to leave a sick person next to all the food, but she didn’t feel like she had much of a choice given that she couldn’t trust her legs.
600 /600 +1 Chakra Pool
”Excuse me, Hello! ” Akiko set the ladle down so she could perform a proper bow to the woman, bending at the waist. ”Was there something I can do for you?” The genuine concern flooded her voice as she spoke. She did see the line begin to get anxious, and so Akiko gestured to one of the staff that was working with her. ”Thank you - Please cover for me for just a minute.” she told the other volunteer. Akiko stepped away from the line and looked at Suzuko with an expectant glance. What could this girl want? Akiko had not really noticed the change from her mood from Anger to hope because she normally didn’t feel so vengeful. She genuinely liked people and didn’t mind taking her time to step aside and talk to someone who had questions or wanted to talk to her. ”Oh! Excuse me. My name is Akiko, Akibushi. ” How rude of her! Akiko felt a little ashamed that she hadn’t immediately introduced herself. This young woman was someone that she wasn’t familiar with so it was only appropriate to make an introduction.
Suzuko seemed to indicate towards the children that had taken the food before. Akiko looked over at the children. Simple and innocent enjoying the meager comforts that were able to be provided by this camp. It was a pitiful sight really. And yet there was hope. Akiko paused. Something didn’t really… feel… right. She was confused because her mind and heart were in disagreement about what she should be feeling. She didn’t feel pity or sadnes when looking at their struggle but instead hope. Why was she feeling hopeful? Akiko turned her head back to Suzuko and gave her a greater deal of discernment, looking for something. She knew that Shinobi were infamous for their genjutsu. She couldn’t really understand why someone might want to do this to her. No, someone wouldn’t do this to her. She was just feeling hope because they were… Confusion again. The emotions didn’t match her logic. Akiko pursed her lips, starting feel a sense of vertigo.
”I’m sorry. I think I may need to sit down.” Akiko had begun to grow even paler than she already was. She walked over to a bench that was being used currently by the administration the food supplies off the ground, but Akiko was petite enough that she found a place to sit in between the supplies and held head with her hand with as much dignity as she could manage. She really started to feel nausea, and yet there was still that feeling of hope which made her feel more nausea because it was just too discordant. Akiko felt her head to check for a fever. She didn’t feel like she had one, but she had to lean on the storage crates for support. It probably wouldn’t be a good idea to leave a sick person next to all the food, but she didn’t feel like she had much of a choice given that she couldn’t trust her legs.
600 /600 +1 Chakra Pool
[Invasion] When the Days are Cold [Open]
Dark clouds were hanging low over the mustering grounds, which were abuzz with soldiers hurriedly packing supplies into carts. Jirou wound his way over to present himself.
“Who are you soldier?”
“Kisama, Jirou, sir.”
“Very well. You worked in a restaurant before this, correct?”
“Yes sir,” Jirou replied through gritted teeth.
“Very well. You will be helping man the food lines. They’re loading food up over there,” he pointed to several stacks of crates near one of the many wagons.
“Yes sir.”
Food! He had enlisted, driven a wedge between himself and his parents, all to do something different – something his own – with his life. And now here he was, dealing with food again. Jirou grabbed a sack of potatoes with each hand and tossed them into the back of the wagon. The wagon bounced with the force, and the horse attached to it whinnied nervously.
Jirou felt a hand make contact with the back of his head. He wheeled around, hands already making fists, to see a man standing behind him. He was slightly shorter than Jiro, and looked to be in his forties or fifties. He was dressed in more traditional samurai clothing, and was totally bald, with a long, immaculate, white mustache that he had waxed outwards.
“Careful boy!” he shouted in Jirou’s face. “You’ll scare the horses and damage the wagon!”
Jirou bristled. “Why don’t you-”
The man crossed his arms, giving Jirou a smug look, as if to say “I’ve killed bigger men over less than you’re about to say.”
He wanted so badly to tell the man to shove the horses, the wagons, and both sacks of potatoes up his ass.
“Fine, old man!” he shouted instead.
Without a word, the old man gestured to a nearby crate – this one full of onions. Jirou sighed and squatted down to pick it up. He brought the crate aloft with minimal effort, walked it over to the cart, and set it down gently.
“Are you happy now old man?” Jirou turned around to glare at the man.
“Yes,” the samurai said, smiling at Jirou. "Yes I am. You’re a strong boy; you just need to learn how to use it.”
Jirou turned away and hurried off, ostensibly to bring another crate over, but really to hide his rapidly reddening face. How had that damn old man made a fool of him so easily? He grabbed another crate and loaded it in.
“Don’t work yourself too hard,” the old samurai chuckled, noticing Jirou’s red face.
“Just let me work in peace!” Jirou yelled, eliciting more laughter from the man.
By the time they had finished loading the cart, the other men on canteen duty had started calling Jirou Aka – red – on account of his red hair and matching face. While underway, the clouds opened up and it started to pour down rain. The cart slowed as the wheels started to stick in the ground which was turning to mud. Jirou poked his head out of the back and saw the other reason the cart was slowing. There were throngs of people awaiting entrance into the camp. Long lines of soaked refugees snaked out of the tents which acted as admittance centers. Seeing all these people driven to wherever they could go with only what they could carry awakened something deep in Jirou’s mind. Just at the edge of his conscious memory: a blurry image. He was in his father’s arms, halfway slung over one of his shoulders. He was looking down at his brother, Tetsuo, who was holding their father’s other hand. Tetsuo smiled at him, and Jirou could feel himself smile back. He turned his head and looked back over his father’s shoulder. His mother was there. Her brilliant red hair was in a long, messy braid, and she was holding a toddler – Mei, his younger sister – in her arms. Behind her was another family, and behind them another, stretching out as far as he could see towards the setting sun. He could feel the air getting colder.
Jirou shook himself from his reverie and ducked back into the wagon.
“Why aren’t they fighting? Staying and defending their homeland?” Jirou asked.
The other men just stared at him, shocked that he would ask something so insensitive. Jirou crossed his arms and looked down at his feet. He could feel the redness creeping up his cheeks again.
“Many of them are women and children,” the old samurai said calmly. He seemed to be the only one in the wagon taking Jirou’s question seriously. “Invalids, sick, wounded. And the able-bodied men are not soldiers. Much less samurai or shinobi. Among them are tradesmen, scholars, artists, farmers: all walks of life. Some may truly be cowards who did not want to fight. Others may just have been unable to leave their families as they fled. You are too young to remember much about the last war, no?”
Jirou nodded.
“War is something you need to truly see to understand. While I hope you never see a battlefield, when you do, you will understand why these people are here and not there.”
Jirou nodded again at the man. He almost wished he hadn’t asked, that he had sat with his question in silence. Somehow, the old man’s earnest answer felt worse than when everyone was just staring at him silently. The cart approached the gates.
“Make way, make way for food!” the wagon’s driver cried out.
They rolled slowly through the camp and up to a large, bland-colored tent, behind which the cart ground to a stop. The men could hear the murmuring of the camp around them, over the sound of rain hitting earth and canvas.
“Everyone out! Get this food unloaded!” the old samurai shouted.
Jirou jumped to work, immediately grabbing two sacks of potatoes – one in each hand – and leaping out of the cart.
“Ask whoever is in there where they want everything, Aka,” the old samurai instructed him.
Jirou rushed into the tent. Inside were two women. One of them he recognized immediately: Akiko, the pink woman who had graced his father’s restaurant several weeks ago. Jirou’s heart beat a bit faster seeing that she was here. He was glad he would get to talk to her some more.
The other woman – no, a girl really – he didn’t place right away. However, after staring at her for a moment, he realized he knew her face. They had been in the academy together. She was younger than he was, but the same year as his sister. She had been friends with Mei, maybe? Or was he thinking of someone else? Her name was something with an S. Or a Z? Or both? Suzuki? Suzuki sounded right. He didn’t care that much if he got her name wrong. He had a vague memory of her not being an especially pleasant person.
“Hello?” Jirou called out, walking up to the two of them.
“Hi Akiko-san. We’ve got some supplies outside. Food and stuff. Where do you want us to put it?” he asked, bowing awkwardly while trying to keep the potatoes from touching the damp earthen floor.
He turned to Suzuko and gave her an awkward potato bow as well.
“I think we’ve met before: in the academy. Suzuki, right? I’m Jirou Kisama. You were in the same year as my sister Mei Kisama. Maybe you knew each other?”
WC: 1230/600 Strength +1, Speed +1
“Who are you soldier?”
“Kisama, Jirou, sir.”
“Very well. You worked in a restaurant before this, correct?”
“Yes sir,” Jirou replied through gritted teeth.
“Very well. You will be helping man the food lines. They’re loading food up over there,” he pointed to several stacks of crates near one of the many wagons.
“Yes sir.”
Food! He had enlisted, driven a wedge between himself and his parents, all to do something different – something his own – with his life. And now here he was, dealing with food again. Jirou grabbed a sack of potatoes with each hand and tossed them into the back of the wagon. The wagon bounced with the force, and the horse attached to it whinnied nervously.
Jirou felt a hand make contact with the back of his head. He wheeled around, hands already making fists, to see a man standing behind him. He was slightly shorter than Jiro, and looked to be in his forties or fifties. He was dressed in more traditional samurai clothing, and was totally bald, with a long, immaculate, white mustache that he had waxed outwards.
“Careful boy!” he shouted in Jirou’s face. “You’ll scare the horses and damage the wagon!”
Jirou bristled. “Why don’t you-”
The man crossed his arms, giving Jirou a smug look, as if to say “I’ve killed bigger men over less than you’re about to say.”
He wanted so badly to tell the man to shove the horses, the wagons, and both sacks of potatoes up his ass.
“Fine, old man!” he shouted instead.
Without a word, the old man gestured to a nearby crate – this one full of onions. Jirou sighed and squatted down to pick it up. He brought the crate aloft with minimal effort, walked it over to the cart, and set it down gently.
“Are you happy now old man?” Jirou turned around to glare at the man.
“Yes,” the samurai said, smiling at Jirou. "Yes I am. You’re a strong boy; you just need to learn how to use it.”
Jirou turned away and hurried off, ostensibly to bring another crate over, but really to hide his rapidly reddening face. How had that damn old man made a fool of him so easily? He grabbed another crate and loaded it in.
“Don’t work yourself too hard,” the old samurai chuckled, noticing Jirou’s red face.
“Just let me work in peace!” Jirou yelled, eliciting more laughter from the man.
By the time they had finished loading the cart, the other men on canteen duty had started calling Jirou Aka – red – on account of his red hair and matching face. While underway, the clouds opened up and it started to pour down rain. The cart slowed as the wheels started to stick in the ground which was turning to mud. Jirou poked his head out of the back and saw the other reason the cart was slowing. There were throngs of people awaiting entrance into the camp. Long lines of soaked refugees snaked out of the tents which acted as admittance centers. Seeing all these people driven to wherever they could go with only what they could carry awakened something deep in Jirou’s mind. Just at the edge of his conscious memory: a blurry image. He was in his father’s arms, halfway slung over one of his shoulders. He was looking down at his brother, Tetsuo, who was holding their father’s other hand. Tetsuo smiled at him, and Jirou could feel himself smile back. He turned his head and looked back over his father’s shoulder. His mother was there. Her brilliant red hair was in a long, messy braid, and she was holding a toddler – Mei, his younger sister – in her arms. Behind her was another family, and behind them another, stretching out as far as he could see towards the setting sun. He could feel the air getting colder.
Jirou shook himself from his reverie and ducked back into the wagon.
“Why aren’t they fighting? Staying and defending their homeland?” Jirou asked.
The other men just stared at him, shocked that he would ask something so insensitive. Jirou crossed his arms and looked down at his feet. He could feel the redness creeping up his cheeks again.
“Many of them are women and children,” the old samurai said calmly. He seemed to be the only one in the wagon taking Jirou’s question seriously. “Invalids, sick, wounded. And the able-bodied men are not soldiers. Much less samurai or shinobi. Among them are tradesmen, scholars, artists, farmers: all walks of life. Some may truly be cowards who did not want to fight. Others may just have been unable to leave their families as they fled. You are too young to remember much about the last war, no?”
Jirou nodded.
“War is something you need to truly see to understand. While I hope you never see a battlefield, when you do, you will understand why these people are here and not there.”
Jirou nodded again at the man. He almost wished he hadn’t asked, that he had sat with his question in silence. Somehow, the old man’s earnest answer felt worse than when everyone was just staring at him silently. The cart approached the gates.
“Make way, make way for food!” the wagon’s driver cried out.
They rolled slowly through the camp and up to a large, bland-colored tent, behind which the cart ground to a stop. The men could hear the murmuring of the camp around them, over the sound of rain hitting earth and canvas.
“Everyone out! Get this food unloaded!” the old samurai shouted.
Jirou jumped to work, immediately grabbing two sacks of potatoes – one in each hand – and leaping out of the cart.
“Ask whoever is in there where they want everything, Aka,” the old samurai instructed him.
Jirou rushed into the tent. Inside were two women. One of them he recognized immediately: Akiko, the pink woman who had graced his father’s restaurant several weeks ago. Jirou’s heart beat a bit faster seeing that she was here. He was glad he would get to talk to her some more.
The other woman – no, a girl really – he didn’t place right away. However, after staring at her for a moment, he realized he knew her face. They had been in the academy together. She was younger than he was, but the same year as his sister. She had been friends with Mei, maybe? Or was he thinking of someone else? Her name was something with an S. Or a Z? Or both? Suzuki? Suzuki sounded right. He didn’t care that much if he got her name wrong. He had a vague memory of her not being an especially pleasant person.
“Hello?” Jirou called out, walking up to the two of them.
“Hi Akiko-san. We’ve got some supplies outside. Food and stuff. Where do you want us to put it?” he asked, bowing awkwardly while trying to keep the potatoes from touching the damp earthen floor.
He turned to Suzuko and gave her an awkward potato bow as well.
“I think we’ve met before: in the academy. Suzuki, right? I’m Jirou Kisama. You were in the same year as my sister Mei Kisama. Maybe you knew each other?”
WC: 1230/600 Strength +1, Speed +1
Last edited by Drak on Mon Feb 12, 2024 10:51 pm, edited 1 time in total.
| Akito Hyuuga | Konoha | Jounin | #008080 |
|
Jirou Kisama | Heart Empire | Akibushi | #BF4000 |
|
Hanzou Fukusha | Iwa | Genin | #800080 |
[Invasion] When the Days are Cold [Open]
It twisted, it felt wrong, it upended and tumbled. A corruption entered into the calculations and that really stood to reason because Suzuko wasn't great at math. At least not this kind of math. It was as if the hope she'd transferred over didn't replace as she'd hoped -- Perhaps it had added to her existing emotions and mixed like some sort of bubbling witches cauldron, and all at once she felt it tipped over onto her. It didn't burn, nor did it soothe, but instead it felt like raw humiliation, a vat of ooze tipped over on her while she stood before a crowd of people, the ultimate embarrassment, a fire lit under her skin and she felt her face go red and she began to sweat almost immediately. She'd long since gotten over being embarrassed about her sweating problem, but that didn't make it go away any time soon, and so with her heart threatening to come out of her chest and add to the witches cauldron, she reassessed herself.
She couldn't deign to know the thoughts of people as well as she did their emotions, nowhere near so, which made a situation like this all the more curious. She also felt sick about the same time that Akiko was, and eagerly joined her to sit down, clearing a space for the pair of them, and suddenly looking all the worse for wear as soon as the heiress took a seat. "Suzuko, Fuyubushi..." She responded in kind, suddenly wishing she'd never felt the desire to come help at all with the pain it seemed to be causing her, and maybe worse, the help seemed to make things worse for the other girl as well. That thought made her feel even worse. In a moment she'd gone from looking like a preppy, energetic soldier to looking like she needed serious medical attention.
"Sorry, you just looked, upset, so I thought I'd say hello..." Suzuko finally said awkwardly, not bringing up what else she'd done. "But now I feel like I need to vomit." She said simply, turning green for a moment, before managing to swallow it back down. She didn't want to have a long conversation about this, and so was somewhat grateful when a distraction arose in the form of a Kisama clansman. She didn't recognize him specifically, he looked an awful lot like a dork, and his dark skin and bright hair made him fairly recognizable... And someone should have told him to shave his mustache.
"Suzuko." She corrected him with a glare, at least feeling well enough to feel annoyed at the boy's mistake. She took a moment to think about who he was referring to, before nodding. "Ah, Mei..." she said, realizing that she'd never really spoken to the girl more than a few times in passing. Kisama were generally fairly smart as a rule, and so her extracurricular tutoring didn't tend to include many of them despite their prevalence in the academy. "Is she doing well...? I didn't hear if she was attempting to go for Fuyubushi or not after the initial graduation..."
She couldn't deign to know the thoughts of people as well as she did their emotions, nowhere near so, which made a situation like this all the more curious. She also felt sick about the same time that Akiko was, and eagerly joined her to sit down, clearing a space for the pair of them, and suddenly looking all the worse for wear as soon as the heiress took a seat. "Suzuko, Fuyubushi..." She responded in kind, suddenly wishing she'd never felt the desire to come help at all with the pain it seemed to be causing her, and maybe worse, the help seemed to make things worse for the other girl as well. That thought made her feel even worse. In a moment she'd gone from looking like a preppy, energetic soldier to looking like she needed serious medical attention.
"Sorry, you just looked, upset, so I thought I'd say hello..." Suzuko finally said awkwardly, not bringing up what else she'd done. "But now I feel like I need to vomit." She said simply, turning green for a moment, before managing to swallow it back down. She didn't want to have a long conversation about this, and so was somewhat grateful when a distraction arose in the form of a Kisama clansman. She didn't recognize him specifically, he looked an awful lot like a dork, and his dark skin and bright hair made him fairly recognizable... And someone should have told him to shave his mustache.
"Suzuko." She corrected him with a glare, at least feeling well enough to feel annoyed at the boy's mistake. She took a moment to think about who he was referring to, before nodding. "Ah, Mei..." she said, realizing that she'd never really spoken to the girl more than a few times in passing. Kisama were generally fairly smart as a rule, and so her extracurricular tutoring didn't tend to include many of them despite their prevalence in the academy. "Is she doing well...? I didn't hear if she was attempting to go for Fuyubushi or not after the initial graduation..."
"It's so sad!" the reader said to the writer with a frown. "The character in my book just died!" The author turned to her and burst out into tears, "I know!" he said, "So did mine!"
Ninja Info CardsShow
| Suzuko Just another girl |