Location: A narrow grass path slithers between elder, red-bark cypress trees. Their branches weave together high above, filtering light into dusty columns that violets are quick to colonize. Only rarely does a woodpecker tap into the silence of the soft wood.
Characters: Two young people dressed in flowing robes, one stepping with her shoulders slightly brought forward, as if used to long travels. The man strides along. He wears an official’s red-and-white uniform. Waving behind, are the conspicuous purple ribbons used to tie up sleeves when writing, and whose gold-threading marks his rank. No family crest on this kimono – an official is to be impartial. Yet the constellations of zits on his face made him unmistakable for those who met him. The girl raised her sleeve between them, tugging at the vaporous blue jacket covering her white dress. Unlike their counterparts in the rest of the continent, nobles in Rock Country had the practical sense to wear thin enough layers that they could actually breathe. No wonder they were considered uncouth.
“Do I really need to wear this, Phil?” Suzuri questioned. Despite the unexpected lightness, her skin got goose-bumps from the elegance. ‘Like peacock feathers on a hen,’ she thought.
“Er, hm…” The man’s neatly trimmed nails raised to scratch an already inflamed pimple. The bump swung nervously around, growing from red to milky purple.
“I know, Your Lordship Masumi Fumio.” Suzuri did a half-bow, and stopped him with an elbow to the ribs. She swung an arm over his shoulders and pulled herself the slightest bit closer. “If you’re seen behaving scandalously with a foreigner, at least she should be beautiful, right?” She whispered. She stuck out her tongue and pulled away while red blotches sprouted on the young man’s face. Fumio, alias Phil, had his blood tinted with enough blue that conversing with a vagabond like her should’ve normally been unimaginable. And of course, gallivanting with a lady of his rank would have been chaperoned for different reasons. There was really only one type of woman he could freely talk with, alone, even be encouraged to. That was the kind of woman whose outfit Suzuri was wearing.
A high-ranked courtesan. He sometimes invited them, he said, because no one else would pay attention to him when he talked about maths.
Letting herself go in the momentum, the travelling girl spun around, grasping the forest, the peaceful garden with soothingly raked paths, and even the distant mansion in a single embrace. “It’s a nice place,” she spoke breathlessly.
“Are you sure you want to go this far?” The man asked, cautiously. “The forest continues straight ahead. There’s...hedgehogs, and nettles in it.”
“Is that so?” A smile fluttered on Suzuri’s lips.
“My cousins asked me to test some to see if they’re real.” The young man explained, without a trace of sarcasm. Suzuri winced. “They’re nice people. I like working here.” His face lit up and he gestured, something quite uncharacteristic of him. “All those numbers! There’s even somebody who brings me lunch in my office with appropriately arranged cutlery, you know?”
Suzuri felt his enthusiasm as almost physical warmth. She was glad that her friend was happy, even if his happiness of order and habit would have killed her. His parents, he’d told her matter-of-factly, had been quite disapproving of his entry into bureaucracy. People would think he needed to work. Luckily, an uncle had managed to get him a post with an impressive enough title that they relented. The job was a sinecure, or had been – until Phil. The only way to keep him from doing calculations would be to nail him to the ground.
“I’m sure it’s lovely.” She replied warmly. “You’re working in…taxes, isn’t it?” Phil nodded gleefully. “Say, I heard…” Suzuri started, and bit her lip. How could she approach the rumors? They stuck to her like thistles as she walked through the region. That roads should have been repaired, but they hadn’t. That the publicans had come like always for their share, although it had been a year of drought. That, in the city, a hospital should have been built for women, but weeds were thriving on the rotten framework. Somehow, people’s money seemed to magic away. “Nothing.” The girl shook her head, and smiled. It wouldn’t do to sadden her friend by explain him that his work supported a corrupt bureaucracy. “Come,” she pulled his sleeve, “I’ll show you a plant that soothes nettle stings!”
She didn’t know that the magic of followed Phil. Crept after him, in every department he worked in – the magic of making money disappear with a swish of the pen and clever use of percentages.
Making Money
Making Money
Meiyo had killed his last target a few days ago, a corrupt arms dealer that had been financing several less-than reputable organizations in the area. After killing the man, Meiyo had decided to take a look through the man's office and see if there were any other men in the area that needed to be dealt with. Slime like this were the worst, hiding behind a system that used its rules to protect only when it was convenient. It was because of men like this that Meiyo had his calling in the first place. He didn't take ransom nor reward, he only set his eyes on seeing that justice was done. He ate what he needed to and kept moving. Meiyo knew he'd live the rest of his days in general discomfort, but he couldn't stop his quest now.
No names in particular stood out in the man's files until he came across one interesting name: Phil. The man appeared to be of decent rank and intelligence, and yet these reports showed that his actions weren't fitting for someone of his position. Here it was again, official documents being used to hide and transfer money from one man to another, none of it legal. People were being robbed with no proof they had the money in the first place. Families and children would starve if men like this were allowed to continue their work.
Phil had to be stopped.
This goal was what brought Meiyo to this forest, standing atop a branch as he watched the man move in the distance. HE had been following the couple for some time already, wanting to make sure that they weren't being followed by unseen bodyguards. The woman was a nobody, an innocent as far as Meiyo was concerned. He just needed to take his shot and make sure Phil didn't hurt anyone again. Normally Meiyo would just shoot the man in the heart and be done with it. However, a thought occurred to him. If justice was to be served, the stolen money needed to be returned. Perhaps there was a way for him to learn the information. This Phil didn't seem combat trained, which meant he likely wouldn't withstand long against torture.
Meiyo's eyes looked down the sights of his bow, lining up his shot as he felt the wind resistance in the air and set a clear path. The woman was thankfully not that close, which meant the shot would be clean. Letting the string go, Meiyo watched as his arrow sailed through the air towards the man's thigh. Meiyo wanted to make sure he wouldn't be going anywhere. They needed to have a conversation first.
No names in particular stood out in the man's files until he came across one interesting name: Phil. The man appeared to be of decent rank and intelligence, and yet these reports showed that his actions weren't fitting for someone of his position. Here it was again, official documents being used to hide and transfer money from one man to another, none of it legal. People were being robbed with no proof they had the money in the first place. Families and children would starve if men like this were allowed to continue their work.
Phil had to be stopped.
This goal was what brought Meiyo to this forest, standing atop a branch as he watched the man move in the distance. HE had been following the couple for some time already, wanting to make sure that they weren't being followed by unseen bodyguards. The woman was a nobody, an innocent as far as Meiyo was concerned. He just needed to take his shot and make sure Phil didn't hurt anyone again. Normally Meiyo would just shoot the man in the heart and be done with it. However, a thought occurred to him. If justice was to be served, the stolen money needed to be returned. Perhaps there was a way for him to learn the information. This Phil didn't seem combat trained, which meant he likely wouldn't withstand long against torture.
Meiyo's eyes looked down the sights of his bow, lining up his shot as he felt the wind resistance in the air and set a clear path. The woman was thankfully not that close, which meant the shot would be clean. Letting the string go, Meiyo watched as his arrow sailed through the air towards the man's thigh. Meiyo wanted to make sure he wouldn't be going anywhere. They needed to have a conversation first.
Making Money
A sharp whistle shot through the trees. It scratched the highest chords of one’s hearing, pulling Suzuri around by a string just in time to see her friend collapsing on one knee. For an instant, she glared, uncomprehending, at the blood splatter stretching on his thigh.
“I think I’ll need it.” Phil spoke, with the utter calm granted by having an arrow shot through one’s leg. He grunted as the girl darted past him, clutching the dirt as pain finally hit him. Suzuri stood with her feet apart, between the young bureaucrat and the unseen archer. They said that the best bowmen could hit targets more than ten chō* away. Her lips trembled as she took in a deep breath. She made an odd gesture, a sort of elaborate, reverse self hug, sketching two intertwining arches while her palms rotated in turn. Reaching out to the world around her for the strength she did not have.
‘Water, kindly help me, for we are of a kind,’ she mouthed the words.
Then she breathed out.
Something like steam sparkled between her palms. It condensed in droplets along the web sketched by her power, before merging into a translucent shield slightly wider than the girl’s outstretched arms. As soon as the last weave was in place, Suzuri knelt at Phil’s side, sliding an arm under his, and over his shoulder-blades.
Phil muttered something about decimals under his breath. His face was translucent.
“Iknow it hurts butwe need to get to thattree.” Suzuri rushed through sentences, kicking out the white space in the way. She had no time to explain that they needed their backs covered. She had no time to seek forgiveness for the sin of knowing magic. “I know you can do it. Okay? I’ll help. At three.” The girl tightened her support. “One, two. Three!”
Suzuri hissed as she helped her friend up. Phil cried an obscenity involving the mothers of differentials on ice, and his voice was strangled into glass-breaking silence. The girl feared he’d passed out. But as she took her first steps towards the tree, his healthy leg moved to support. Step by painstaking step, they crawled on towards their uncertain defense spot.
By the time their reached the trunk, Suzuri’s beaded braids glistened with Phil’s sweat and tears.
“I need you to focus.” The girl mercilessly told him as the man let himself fall between the roots. She threw her backpack at him. “Get my painting kit out of my bag. Can you?” Phil nodded with a dazed expression. There was no space for niceties in Suzuri’s mind as she scanned the forest for movement. She was so high-strung, that she twitched when Phil slid a paintbrush and a tube of pain in her palm. She gazed down. Black. This would do.
Sparks trickled out of her fingers, and into the paintbrush. On the white lap of her dress, the girl sketched a rotund, curled-up cat. A swish of magic, and the cat stretched out in three dimensions, digging its nails through the fabric. Suzuri stroked it, feeling little lightning bolts of chakra in her fingertips. The cat crouched, jumped on Phil’s head, and from there on a low branch and into the canopy. If she closed her left eye, the travelling wizard girl could see its soft-pawed race towards the source of this disturbance.
Suzuri stood up.
“Show yourself, fiend!” The girl shouted.
“May you stumble upon a square root!” Her companion joined in, on a wavering voice.
“If you’ve got issues with me, I’ll fight ya!” Suzuri continued. Her heart winced. She stood straight, bolas cords throw over one shoulder, paintbrush in another, the air and grass around her rippling with her fluid chakra. “But don’t you dare involve my friends.”
“I think I’ll need it.” Phil spoke, with the utter calm granted by having an arrow shot through one’s leg. He grunted as the girl darted past him, clutching the dirt as pain finally hit him. Suzuri stood with her feet apart, between the young bureaucrat and the unseen archer. They said that the best bowmen could hit targets more than ten chō* away. Her lips trembled as she took in a deep breath. She made an odd gesture, a sort of elaborate, reverse self hug, sketching two intertwining arches while her palms rotated in turn. Reaching out to the world around her for the strength she did not have.
‘Water, kindly help me, for we are of a kind,’ she mouthed the words.
Then she breathed out.
Something like steam sparkled between her palms. It condensed in droplets along the web sketched by her power, before merging into a translucent shield slightly wider than the girl’s outstretched arms. As soon as the last weave was in place, Suzuri knelt at Phil’s side, sliding an arm under his, and over his shoulder-blades.
Phil muttered something about decimals under his breath. His face was translucent.
“Iknow it hurts butwe need to get to thattree.” Suzuri rushed through sentences, kicking out the white space in the way. She had no time to explain that they needed their backs covered. She had no time to seek forgiveness for the sin of knowing magic. “I know you can do it. Okay? I’ll help. At three.” The girl tightened her support. “One, two. Three!”
Suzuri hissed as she helped her friend up. Phil cried an obscenity involving the mothers of differentials on ice, and his voice was strangled into glass-breaking silence. The girl feared he’d passed out. But as she took her first steps towards the tree, his healthy leg moved to support. Step by painstaking step, they crawled on towards their uncertain defense spot.
By the time their reached the trunk, Suzuri’s beaded braids glistened with Phil’s sweat and tears.
“I need you to focus.” The girl mercilessly told him as the man let himself fall between the roots. She threw her backpack at him. “Get my painting kit out of my bag. Can you?” Phil nodded with a dazed expression. There was no space for niceties in Suzuri’s mind as she scanned the forest for movement. She was so high-strung, that she twitched when Phil slid a paintbrush and a tube of pain in her palm. She gazed down. Black. This would do.
Sparks trickled out of her fingers, and into the paintbrush. On the white lap of her dress, the girl sketched a rotund, curled-up cat. A swish of magic, and the cat stretched out in three dimensions, digging its nails through the fabric. Suzuri stroked it, feeling little lightning bolts of chakra in her fingertips. The cat crouched, jumped on Phil’s head, and from there on a low branch and into the canopy. If she closed her left eye, the travelling wizard girl could see its soft-pawed race towards the source of this disturbance.
Suzuri stood up.
“Show yourself, fiend!” The girl shouted.
“May you stumble upon a square root!” Her companion joined in, on a wavering voice.
“If you’ve got issues with me, I’ll fight ya!” Suzuri continued. Her heart winced. She stood straight, bolas cords throw over one shoulder, paintbrush in another, the air and grass around her rippling with her fluid chakra. “But don’t you dare involve my friends.”
SpoilerShow
*ooc: roughly, ten chō > 1km. Chō are old Japanese length measurements.
Techniques used:
Techniques used:
SpoilerShow
#Suiton • Defensive Barrier
D-Rank Ninjutsu
After performing chakra-channeling gestures, seals the user will spray water created by condensing vapor from the atmosphere in front of their mouth. Once the water is expelled, it will form an umbrella shape that is concave to the user and about two meters in diameter. This defense is somewhat solid and can be formed in any direction the user can breathe, up to five meters away. The defense is shot at a speed of 5 and has a strength of 5 and unless completely destroyed it lasts for three posts before falling lifelessly to the ground.
Oil Paint Style • Guard cat
D-Rank Ninjutsu
This round ball of fluff posing as a cat likes to curl up near friends, and to slice enemies’ faces to smithereens. Summoned by painting. Stats: Taijutsu 3, Stamina 2, Strength 3, Speed 4. Summoned by painting-related channeling.
Oil Paint Style • Eyes of the Creation
D-Ranked Ninjutsu
After channeling chakra, the user places a hand on one of their creations. As long as they are closing an eye, the user is able to see through the the same eye of their creation. This can scope for two paintings if s/he willing to close both eyes. This can be used up to half a mile away and is mainly used for scouting purposes. Involved channeling.
D-Rank Ninjutsu
After performing chakra-channeling gestures, seals the user will spray water created by condensing vapor from the atmosphere in front of their mouth. Once the water is expelled, it will form an umbrella shape that is concave to the user and about two meters in diameter. This defense is somewhat solid and can be formed in any direction the user can breathe, up to five meters away. The defense is shot at a speed of 5 and has a strength of 5 and unless completely destroyed it lasts for three posts before falling lifelessly to the ground.
Oil Paint Style • Guard cat
D-Rank Ninjutsu
This round ball of fluff posing as a cat likes to curl up near friends, and to slice enemies’ faces to smithereens. Summoned by painting. Stats: Taijutsu 3, Stamina 2, Strength 3, Speed 4. Summoned by painting-related channeling.
Oil Paint Style • Eyes of the Creation
D-Ranked Ninjutsu
After channeling chakra, the user places a hand on one of their creations. As long as they are closing an eye, the user is able to see through the the same eye of their creation. This can scope for two paintings if s/he willing to close both eyes. This can be used up to half a mile away and is mainly used for scouting purposes. Involved channeling.
Suzuri Rinrin | Inkstone | The Travelling Painter
Making Money
"Direct hit" Meiyo said to himself as he saw his arrow land true and strike the target down. It was a deep shot, the kind that would make the man's escape almost impossible. Still, some men were much more than they seemed. Meiyo would be a fool to lower his guard around a fiend like this. This thought paid off as he watched the girl do something...strange.
Meiyo wasn't sure what this technique was, but apparently this girl had some tricks up her sleeve. Whatever she was doing, she was trying to protect Phil. Was she a bodyguard in disguise? Mieyo had to admit that it was effective, he hadn't seen the jutsu coming. Still, this meant little. Based on the technique alone it seemed on the weaker end, he'd just have to approach the battle from a new angle.
Meiyo leaped down from his branch, the movement allowing Suzuri to see him with ease. Strapping his bow to his back, he removed two kunai and begun to spin them on his fingers to build up some momentum. "Leave the boy alone girl, I just need to talk to him before he faces judgment. You need not get involved, but I'll strike you down if you get in my way" he said before looking to the tree Phil was behind. Curious to the girl's abilities, Meiyo threw his kunai in two different directions. They were moving at angles which would allow them to miss the tree and strike at Phil once again unless Suzuri intervened or Phil moved.
Meiyo wasn't sure what this technique was, but apparently this girl had some tricks up her sleeve. Whatever she was doing, she was trying to protect Phil. Was she a bodyguard in disguise? Mieyo had to admit that it was effective, he hadn't seen the jutsu coming. Still, this meant little. Based on the technique alone it seemed on the weaker end, he'd just have to approach the battle from a new angle.
Meiyo leaped down from his branch, the movement allowing Suzuri to see him with ease. Strapping his bow to his back, he removed two kunai and begun to spin them on his fingers to build up some momentum. "Leave the boy alone girl, I just need to talk to him before he faces judgment. You need not get involved, but I'll strike you down if you get in my way" he said before looking to the tree Phil was behind. Curious to the girl's abilities, Meiyo threw his kunai in two different directions. They were moving at angles which would allow them to miss the tree and strike at Phil once again unless Suzuri intervened or Phil moved.
Making Money
There was something in the way that their attacker handled his twin kunai that spoke of experience. Of toying with his prey. Suzuri timed her breathing, ready to jump at any time. This wasn’t a man she could beat with strength alone. The black cat crouched between scaly branches, redirected from scout to guard duty by a mental caress.
“Judgment?...On Phil?” The girl spoke, her disbelief solid enough to clothe a coven of atheists. No one hated Phil.
Some people intensely disliked him. But they were all mathematicians, and mathematicians don’t order people killed. It prevents them from arguing. He was Phil, an enthusiastic member of the circle of maths pen-pals that Suzuri had accidentally stumbled upon by delivering a lost letter, and his true nickname was The Phyle – an old name for tribe – because he would use his art of stat-is-sticks to barbarically invade any subject from the pattern of leaves on a tree to waiting in a queue. He was a pen-pusher, who used his pen to prod at the foundations of the world while the people with swords were occupied with getting rid of one another. He was a great man, in a way that definitely did not involve arrows.
All these thoughts wheeled half-baked through Suzuri’s mind as she tried to read her opponent. Then something familiar clinked behind her, and Suzuri gestured emphatically in Phil’s direction, an instant before the kunai stroke.
The cat threw itself on one of the kunai, exploding in a splash of paint with a pitiful, oily mew. Suzuri had no time to mourn its little life, for she lunged towards the second lightning of steel. Her finger-bones exploded in pain as the metallic fan met the kunai. Phil had thrown her weapon just in time. All she could hope was, like the cat, to deflect the strike – but even so it had enough force to throw her spinning to the ground. Spitting out dirt, Suzuri looked up at the enemy. Her eyes were transfixed, as if watching a viper.
His power was insane. She had met the projectile at the weakest point, where its trajectory curved, but even so she suspected he hadn’t been using his full strength. If she hadn’t sensed the familiar curve in the flick of his wrists…Suzuri shuddered. She reached for her paintbrush with fingers that felt broken. Possessed by divine inspiration, Phil threw her the palette. Blinking to keep tears from clouding her vision, Suzuri painted.
At first it was a little sketch, on her hand. She had to count on the archer’s confidence, on his lack of conviction into ending things quickly. He’d given her a chance to step back. Blue energy seeped into the colors, and they became fluid once again. Suzuri took in the world around her, and mixed it on the palette.
“Who are you?” She questioned, to buy time. “My friend hasn’t done anything wrong!”
“I did.” A broken whisper slipped from behind the tree. Suzuri gnawed her teeth at Phil’s literal honesty.
With difficulty, she stood up. Then, with large, elegant strokes that seemed to branch and fuse with each other in fern-like patterns, she sketched a rectangle in the air. It fell on her, and, to an unaware observer, the girl flickered in an out of existence.
She threw herself back behind the tree.
“Don’t move.” Phil heard Suzuri tell him, as she snuck out of the dust-and-wood colored blanket, and covered him instead. With jerky motions, she tucked in the corners. Cowering under paint had hardly worked for the girl, moving ruined it, but on Phil it would appear like a pile of dirt and chips of bark undistinguishable from the ground. Then he saw no more.
He didn’t see his friend peel a miniature portrait of his off her palm, her skin red with painting solvents. He didn’t see his image enlarge and ripple until it completely covered her, then merge with her figure. Suzuri became Phil, complete with the arrow through the thigh, gold-threaded ribbons and zits, if not in precisely the right configuration.
The impromptu accountant took himself a pained expression, and waited.
“Judgment?...On Phil?” The girl spoke, her disbelief solid enough to clothe a coven of atheists. No one hated Phil.
Some people intensely disliked him. But they were all mathematicians, and mathematicians don’t order people killed. It prevents them from arguing. He was Phil, an enthusiastic member of the circle of maths pen-pals that Suzuri had accidentally stumbled upon by delivering a lost letter, and his true nickname was The Phyle – an old name for tribe – because he would use his art of stat-is-sticks to barbarically invade any subject from the pattern of leaves on a tree to waiting in a queue. He was a pen-pusher, who used his pen to prod at the foundations of the world while the people with swords were occupied with getting rid of one another. He was a great man, in a way that definitely did not involve arrows.
All these thoughts wheeled half-baked through Suzuri’s mind as she tried to read her opponent. Then something familiar clinked behind her, and Suzuri gestured emphatically in Phil’s direction, an instant before the kunai stroke.
The cat threw itself on one of the kunai, exploding in a splash of paint with a pitiful, oily mew. Suzuri had no time to mourn its little life, for she lunged towards the second lightning of steel. Her finger-bones exploded in pain as the metallic fan met the kunai. Phil had thrown her weapon just in time. All she could hope was, like the cat, to deflect the strike – but even so it had enough force to throw her spinning to the ground. Spitting out dirt, Suzuri looked up at the enemy. Her eyes were transfixed, as if watching a viper.
His power was insane. She had met the projectile at the weakest point, where its trajectory curved, but even so she suspected he hadn’t been using his full strength. If she hadn’t sensed the familiar curve in the flick of his wrists…Suzuri shuddered. She reached for her paintbrush with fingers that felt broken. Possessed by divine inspiration, Phil threw her the palette. Blinking to keep tears from clouding her vision, Suzuri painted.
At first it was a little sketch, on her hand. She had to count on the archer’s confidence, on his lack of conviction into ending things quickly. He’d given her a chance to step back. Blue energy seeped into the colors, and they became fluid once again. Suzuri took in the world around her, and mixed it on the palette.
“Who are you?” She questioned, to buy time. “My friend hasn’t done anything wrong!”
“I did.” A broken whisper slipped from behind the tree. Suzuri gnawed her teeth at Phil’s literal honesty.
With difficulty, she stood up. Then, with large, elegant strokes that seemed to branch and fuse with each other in fern-like patterns, she sketched a rectangle in the air. It fell on her, and, to an unaware observer, the girl flickered in an out of existence.
She threw herself back behind the tree.
“Don’t move.” Phil heard Suzuri tell him, as she snuck out of the dust-and-wood colored blanket, and covered him instead. With jerky motions, she tucked in the corners. Cowering under paint had hardly worked for the girl, moving ruined it, but on Phil it would appear like a pile of dirt and chips of bark undistinguishable from the ground. Then he saw no more.
He didn’t see his friend peel a miniature portrait of his off her palm, her skin red with painting solvents. He didn’t see his image enlarge and ripple until it completely covered her, then merge with her figure. Suzuri became Phil, complete with the arrow through the thigh, gold-threaded ribbons and zits, if not in precisely the right configuration.
The impromptu accountant took himself a pained expression, and waited.
SpoilerShow
ooc: Techniques used:
Oil Paint Style • Camouflage
D-Rank Ninjutsu
This is an expansion of the basic Palette technique, and involves mixing colors that would make one’s creations harder to see in a given environment. As it requires time and focus, this technique is not ideally suited for combat (although context may warrant its use), being instead at its best in hiding and tracking. Done by painting-related channeling.
Oil Paint Style • Security blanket
D-Rank Ninjutsu
This pink, fluffy blanket with traditional motifs embroidered into it can defend with up to 8 strength. Forms with 2 speed. 1.5m x 1.8m in surface. Summoned by painting-related channeling.
Oil Paint Style • Portrait
D-Ranked Ninjutsu
The user paints a picture of a person, and then animates it. The picture then superimposes itself over the user, allowing the user to take on the appearance of another person. This is whole different version of Henge, because simple attacks will not dispel the jutsu save for Suiton jutsu. The jutsu isn’t perfect, as it cannot change the shape of the user or provide any sort of protection at all. Also, if enough pressure is applied to the disguise, someone might be surprised to find that the disguise blurs and some paint is rubbed off onto his fingers. This disguise will last for only 5 posts before the ink slides away and dispels the henge. Performed by painting-related channeling.
SpoilerShow
Oil Paint Style • Camouflage
D-Rank Ninjutsu
This is an expansion of the basic Palette technique, and involves mixing colors that would make one’s creations harder to see in a given environment. As it requires time and focus, this technique is not ideally suited for combat (although context may warrant its use), being instead at its best in hiding and tracking. Done by painting-related channeling.
Oil Paint Style • Security blanket
D-Rank Ninjutsu
This pink, fluffy blanket with traditional motifs embroidered into it can defend with up to 8 strength. Forms with 2 speed. 1.5m x 1.8m in surface. Summoned by painting-related channeling.
Oil Paint Style • Portrait
D-Ranked Ninjutsu
The user paints a picture of a person, and then animates it. The picture then superimposes itself over the user, allowing the user to take on the appearance of another person. This is whole different version of Henge, because simple attacks will not dispel the jutsu save for Suiton jutsu. The jutsu isn’t perfect, as it cannot change the shape of the user or provide any sort of protection at all. Also, if enough pressure is applied to the disguise, someone might be surprised to find that the disguise blurs and some paint is rubbed off onto his fingers. This disguise will last for only 5 posts before the ink slides away and dispels the henge. Performed by painting-related channeling.
Suzuri Rinrin | Inkstone | The Travelling Painter
Making Money
Meiyo had been playing things safe, wanting to see if there were more to these two than he had suspected. The man was just an accountant, and even if he had any combat skills he wasn't going to fight very well due to the arrow embedded in his leg. As far as Meiyo knew, the arrow was still inside. Phil would either rip it out quickly and risk doing more damage to his muscles, or he'd need to take the time to remove it carefully. Either way, Meiyo has the clear advantage in this fight.
The girl...she was much more interesting. Meiyo's eye twitched to the side as he saw a small cat throw itself in to one of the kunai and explode. "Was that blood...no, it couldn't be. That was ink" he said to himself as he watched the black mass hit the ground and break apart. So she was one of those users was she? The more time that Meiyo gave her to create something, the more likely she was at creating something that could fight him or at least create a large enough distraction to get away. Meiyo couldn't allow that.
The man rushed forward, leaping on to another branch as he decided to use both height and distance to his advantage. Removing his bow once again he knocked an arrow before moving around the tree and seeing Phil standing there, but the girl was gone. Meiyo's eyes widened in surprise. "Where's the girl!?" he shouted as his arrow pointed right at Phil's chest. Regardless of the answer, Meiyo had more to say.
"Your boss is dead, I found his files saying that you stole money from numerous individuals for his gain. I know that you must have been offered some cut of the profits, why else would you damage the lives of so many?" he asked rhetorically. "Tell me how to get the money back, and you can die with a clear conscience as I get all the money back I can. Tell me where it is!" he shouted as he drew the bow back a little further, the steel tips of the arrows pointing right at Suzuri, although Meiyo thought he was threatening Phil directly.
The girl...she was much more interesting. Meiyo's eye twitched to the side as he saw a small cat throw itself in to one of the kunai and explode. "Was that blood...no, it couldn't be. That was ink" he said to himself as he watched the black mass hit the ground and break apart. So she was one of those users was she? The more time that Meiyo gave her to create something, the more likely she was at creating something that could fight him or at least create a large enough distraction to get away. Meiyo couldn't allow that.
The man rushed forward, leaping on to another branch as he decided to use both height and distance to his advantage. Removing his bow once again he knocked an arrow before moving around the tree and seeing Phil standing there, but the girl was gone. Meiyo's eyes widened in surprise. "Where's the girl!?" he shouted as his arrow pointed right at Phil's chest. Regardless of the answer, Meiyo had more to say.
"Your boss is dead, I found his files saying that you stole money from numerous individuals for his gain. I know that you must have been offered some cut of the profits, why else would you damage the lives of so many?" he asked rhetorically. "Tell me how to get the money back, and you can die with a clear conscience as I get all the money back I can. Tell me where it is!" he shouted as he drew the bow back a little further, the steel tips of the arrows pointing right at Suzuri, although Meiyo thought he was threatening Phil directly.
Making Money
He had something of a devil about him, standing in the canopy with light shining down on him, his features obscured and twisted in anger like the ones of a samurai in a woodblock painting. Suzuri shielded her eyes from the sun, her gaze automatically fixing on the golden sash. ‘Then wear the gold hat, if that will move her;/ If you can bounce high, bounce for her too,’…wasn’t this how the poem went? She had to repress a chuckle at the panic of having her gamble actually work.
At first she shrugged at his anger, lips pursing with the fear of being found out. The technique did not alter her voice. Ink wrinkled over her shoulders as smoothly as silk would have.
“Gettin’ help.” The false Phil spoke in the end, half-gasping. It might pay off to worry him a bit. Running her thumb over her bruised fingers, she plucked out a shard of genuine pain to complete her expression. They didn’t feel broken. But, once this was over, she’d give the kingdom she didn’t have for an ice-cold creek to sink her hand in.
Water…
It was everywhere, wasn’t it? Old water in the soil, new water in the air. Dew that hugged plants and sticky droplets that fell from under leaves as plants sweated. Sap pulsing behind her shoulder-blades, and the pulse tiptoeing through her veins. Suzuri felt many small pulses all around her.
The man seemed too involved to notice the wrong chords in the fake’s raspy voice, or the chakra building up in the air. He wasn’t a mere miscreant. A read man – who else would use ‘individual’? – but street magicians said that intellectuals were the easiest to fool. They had an ego. Suzuri felt a bitter hollow in her chest, and stared at the tip of the arrow with the knowledge that even if her plan succeeded, she might still end up with her ribcage broken. Impaled on the tree, slowly, dying, like a butterfly. Yet it was also oddly fitting.
Phil had told her that the term for ‘bureaucrat’ came from an old root-word that referred to the brown felt that their desks used to be covered with. The felt had lost its name. But it still covered tables – those of casinos.
She had brought the man close enough so that surprise might overwhelm experience. Her only choice was to gamble.
False Phil’s arms shot up, and together with them came a mass of water that rushed into a conical river straight into the enemy. The force of the torrent was such that smaller branches were carried off far above the canopy, geyser-like, and even larger ones creaked as if to break. Some did. Suzuri threw a concerned glance at the branch high above Phil, knowing that her blanket wouldn’t protect from pressure-caused suffocation. As the water fell back down, carrying debris with the force of a tropical storm, Phil’s face and clothing melted off the girl shielding herself with her arms from the downpour.
She was cold. It had taken so much out of her, that she might’ve as well sliced her wrists and splashed him with the blood.
“You’ve got the wrong man!” She yelled, coughing out water.
At first she shrugged at his anger, lips pursing with the fear of being found out. The technique did not alter her voice. Ink wrinkled over her shoulders as smoothly as silk would have.
“Gettin’ help.” The false Phil spoke in the end, half-gasping. It might pay off to worry him a bit. Running her thumb over her bruised fingers, she plucked out a shard of genuine pain to complete her expression. They didn’t feel broken. But, once this was over, she’d give the kingdom she didn’t have for an ice-cold creek to sink her hand in.
Water…
It was everywhere, wasn’t it? Old water in the soil, new water in the air. Dew that hugged plants and sticky droplets that fell from under leaves as plants sweated. Sap pulsing behind her shoulder-blades, and the pulse tiptoeing through her veins. Suzuri felt many small pulses all around her.
The man seemed too involved to notice the wrong chords in the fake’s raspy voice, or the chakra building up in the air. He wasn’t a mere miscreant. A read man – who else would use ‘individual’? – but street magicians said that intellectuals were the easiest to fool. They had an ego. Suzuri felt a bitter hollow in her chest, and stared at the tip of the arrow with the knowledge that even if her plan succeeded, she might still end up with her ribcage broken. Impaled on the tree, slowly, dying, like a butterfly. Yet it was also oddly fitting.
Phil had told her that the term for ‘bureaucrat’ came from an old root-word that referred to the brown felt that their desks used to be covered with. The felt had lost its name. But it still covered tables – those of casinos.
She had brought the man close enough so that surprise might overwhelm experience. Her only choice was to gamble.
False Phil’s arms shot up, and together with them came a mass of water that rushed into a conical river straight into the enemy. The force of the torrent was such that smaller branches were carried off far above the canopy, geyser-like, and even larger ones creaked as if to break. Some did. Suzuri threw a concerned glance at the branch high above Phil, knowing that her blanket wouldn’t protect from pressure-caused suffocation. As the water fell back down, carrying debris with the force of a tropical storm, Phil’s face and clothing melted off the girl shielding herself with her arms from the downpour.
She was cold. It had taken so much out of her, that she might’ve as well sliced her wrists and splashed him with the blood.
“You’ve got the wrong man!” She yelled, coughing out water.
SpoilerShow
ooc: The poem references the one in the book The Great Gatsby.
Technique used:
Technique used:
SpoilerShow
#Suiton • Crashing Wave
C-Rank Ninjutsu
After performing chakra-channeling gestures, the user expels a massive tidal wave of water 10 meters wide and nearly 5 meters tall. This wave travels forward at a speed of 10 and with a strength of 10 for up to 15 meters before losing it's steam and failing.
C-Rank Ninjutsu
After performing chakra-channeling gestures, the user expels a massive tidal wave of water 10 meters wide and nearly 5 meters tall. This wave travels forward at a speed of 10 and with a strength of 10 for up to 15 meters before losing it's steam and failing.
Suzuri Rinrin | Inkstone | The Travelling Painter
Making Money
Meiyo held his bow in place as he stared down at "Phil". Meiyo felt the man was debating his options. Meiyo wasn't really one for compromise, Phil was going to die and that was going to be the end of it. Others had begged for their lives, often citing a wife, children, or other numerous reasons to hide behind. That was just how the world worked wasn't it? Everyone had some reason that they should be spared, but the grander truth was that everyone had a reason to die. Mothers could raise children without fathers, and the father wouldn't be around to corrupt the innocent youth. To Meiyo, there weren't good or bad people, only good decisions. Meiyo had been working to make all of his decisions good for some time, that was why he stood resolutely with an arrow aimed at an unarmed man.
However, as Meiyo's eyes began to truly observe his target he began to notice that something was...off. He couldn't quite place it, but the symmetry of the man's outfit was off. It looked like a real outfit, but Meiyo knew that something was wrong. "Deceiver!" Meiyo shouted as he realized that it was in fact the girl in front of him. Only someone with chakra could pull a disguise off this well. Meiyo released his arrow, but the current of water caused the arrow to go off course and miss his target. The water struck Meiyo and sent him flying back in to a larger branch. He released a shout of pain, though the water muffled him. As the blast ended, the assassin fell to the ground in a wet clump.
There were a few moments without movement that might have given Suzuri hope of her victory. However, a moving hand caused Meiyo to push himself up as his eyes fell on Suzuri once again. "You were warned" was all he said before drawing another arrow and firing straight at Suzuri's hip. He still didn't want to kill this girl who thought she was doing the right thing, but he also couldn't keep taking attacks like this from a shinobi. Meiyo had no idea if anyone might be nearby to try and help out. It was time to end this. After firing the arrow he began to sprint forward and ready another arrow, ready to end this fight if he had the chance.
However, as Meiyo's eyes began to truly observe his target he began to notice that something was...off. He couldn't quite place it, but the symmetry of the man's outfit was off. It looked like a real outfit, but Meiyo knew that something was wrong. "Deceiver!" Meiyo shouted as he realized that it was in fact the girl in front of him. Only someone with chakra could pull a disguise off this well. Meiyo released his arrow, but the current of water caused the arrow to go off course and miss his target. The water struck Meiyo and sent him flying back in to a larger branch. He released a shout of pain, though the water muffled him. As the blast ended, the assassin fell to the ground in a wet clump.
There were a few moments without movement that might have given Suzuri hope of her victory. However, a moving hand caused Meiyo to push himself up as his eyes fell on Suzuri once again. "You were warned" was all he said before drawing another arrow and firing straight at Suzuri's hip. He still didn't want to kill this girl who thought she was doing the right thing, but he also couldn't keep taking attacks like this from a shinobi. Meiyo had no idea if anyone might be nearby to try and help out. It was time to end this. After firing the arrow he began to sprint forward and ready another arrow, ready to end this fight if he had the chance.
Making Money
Fire whipped her hip. Suzuri moved her lips in silent confusion and, from staring at the man, her eyes darted down. Her fingers touched the wooden shard sticking out from the edge of her hipbone, curled around it, sending vibrations up her spine. Her lips trembled. There wasn’t much blood. His arrow had struck cleanly through bone. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t move, Suzuri thought blankly. She was stuck to the tree. Water still dripped, frozen, down her clothes.
There must’ve been a gasp, or otherwise the silence that gave her away. For the next thing Suzuri knew was white, searing pain. Though eyelashes heavy with droplets swirling with universes of dust, she glimpsed the gold-threaded, purple-ribbon sleeve of Phil, forcefully leaning against her as he propped himself up to his seat. The camouflage blanket had been thrown to the side, except for a corner which had gotten caught in his arrow. Underneath, on his thigh, red silk grew redder.
“That’s enough.” The young man spoke, with a voice like velvet turned to shreds. “I hadn’t expected the visit of a gentleman as illustrious as you, Mr. Watchful Eye.” Fear shot through Suzuri’s pain. It was said that no one had seen the mystery vigilante and lived. “If I confess, will you leave my friend here alone?” Even lying on the ground, there was a complicit dignity to the official.
“The money…” He paused wistfully. “I spent it. All. Courtesans, jesters, geisha. Couldn’t have it around gathering suspicions, could I? ” He grinned widely. There was freedom in his tone, the gleeful abandon of reducing a complex equation to zero. “You only live once.”
“You couldn’t steal your own asshole if you could find it!” Suzuri snarled, pressing her hand over Phil’s mouth – or rather the back of her wrist, due to her limited range of motion – once she’d recovered enough from having her wound tampered with. “Foolish Phil. Kind Phil.” She mumbled. Then she turned to the archer. Loudly. “Nice people like that are easy to use. Whereas, I…I’m not a nice person. I can change faces. I can steal signet rings and I’m a painter, so copying a signature – pfft!” Snorting, she dismissed the technicalities. “That’s all that a document is. If people were going to steal anyway, why shouldn’t I join in and throw some change back to the masses?” Shrug. Gesture.
“Evidently we can’t be both correct in the same time.” Phil interfered, his eyebrows frowning gently, his love for logic overwhelming, as usual, self-preservation. Drained of energy, the girl’s arm had fallen back down.
“The question is, mister…” Suzuri’s eyes threw daggers at their enemy. “Whether what you want is the truth, or a corpse."
There must’ve been a gasp, or otherwise the silence that gave her away. For the next thing Suzuri knew was white, searing pain. Though eyelashes heavy with droplets swirling with universes of dust, she glimpsed the gold-threaded, purple-ribbon sleeve of Phil, forcefully leaning against her as he propped himself up to his seat. The camouflage blanket had been thrown to the side, except for a corner which had gotten caught in his arrow. Underneath, on his thigh, red silk grew redder.
“That’s enough.” The young man spoke, with a voice like velvet turned to shreds. “I hadn’t expected the visit of a gentleman as illustrious as you, Mr. Watchful Eye.” Fear shot through Suzuri’s pain. It was said that no one had seen the mystery vigilante and lived. “If I confess, will you leave my friend here alone?” Even lying on the ground, there was a complicit dignity to the official.
“The money…” He paused wistfully. “I spent it. All. Courtesans, jesters, geisha. Couldn’t have it around gathering suspicions, could I? ” He grinned widely. There was freedom in his tone, the gleeful abandon of reducing a complex equation to zero. “You only live once.”
“You couldn’t steal your own asshole if you could find it!” Suzuri snarled, pressing her hand over Phil’s mouth – or rather the back of her wrist, due to her limited range of motion – once she’d recovered enough from having her wound tampered with. “Foolish Phil. Kind Phil.” She mumbled. Then she turned to the archer. Loudly. “Nice people like that are easy to use. Whereas, I…I’m not a nice person. I can change faces. I can steal signet rings and I’m a painter, so copying a signature – pfft!” Snorting, she dismissed the technicalities. “That’s all that a document is. If people were going to steal anyway, why shouldn’t I join in and throw some change back to the masses?” Shrug. Gesture.
“Evidently we can’t be both correct in the same time.” Phil interfered, his eyebrows frowning gently, his love for logic overwhelming, as usual, self-preservation. Drained of energy, the girl’s arm had fallen back down.
“The question is, mister…” Suzuri’s eyes threw daggers at their enemy. “Whether what you want is the truth, or a corpse."
Suzuri Rinrin | Inkstone | The Travelling Painter
Making Money
Meiyo turned his head as the real Phil finally revealed himself outside of the camoflague. "Glad to see that you have some morals left Phil, it takes a man without any kind of balls to die while a lady takes pain on his behalf" Meiyo chided as he walked forward, a new arrow once again in his bow. He raised it and aimed directly at Phil, though thankfully Suzuri was close enough that he'd be able to see her creating a new jutsu to fight him if she so tried. She looked pinned and beaten though, very few people survived an arrow from Meiyo and lived to tell the tale.
As the two began to argue with one another, Meiyo couldn't help but wonder if this was an attempt to slow him down or to save their own asses. The man was willing to take all the blame, but told a story about how all the money was gone while the girl seemed to believe there was much more to it. "I normally get both girl, the corpse usually comes after the truth though" Meiyo said as he stepped closer. "I've seen plenty of dying men lie Mister Phil. I'm going to watch you, and you had better understand that I know if you're lying. If you're protecting or covering up for someone, I'm afraid you'll both have to suffer. Tell me the truth, and your friend gets to go free"
As the two began to argue with one another, Meiyo couldn't help but wonder if this was an attempt to slow him down or to save their own asses. The man was willing to take all the blame, but told a story about how all the money was gone while the girl seemed to believe there was much more to it. "I normally get both girl, the corpse usually comes after the truth though" Meiyo said as he stepped closer. "I've seen plenty of dying men lie Mister Phil. I'm going to watch you, and you had better understand that I know if you're lying. If you're protecting or covering up for someone, I'm afraid you'll both have to suffer. Tell me the truth, and your friend gets to go free"
Making Money
The threat tore Phil’s expression in two.
“I’m a bad liar.” He lulled. With a glint in his eyes, he shrugged off any attempt at subtleties. He looked down, shoulders sagging. “That was my official robe,” he whispered.
“You haven’t stolen anything.” Suzuri interfered.
“You don’t know me.”
The voice made the girl feel cold. Part of her said that yes, he was right. There were many facets of the young bureaucrat’s life that she wasn’t aware of. Yet to believe would be to betray. His words sounded crisp, like the little neat logs that he placed in a perfectly symmetrical scaffold on paper in that game – The Hangman. Her face changed.
“Release that arrow.” She snapped, and Phil turned around to stare. “Do it, and an innocent man will die.” Her words fell like a torrent. “You’ve said it yourself. People lie when the ones they care about are threatened. He’s lying to die. He’s clever.” Suzuri choked. “He’s so goddamn clever that he’s stringing bits of truth together into what you want to hear. And you’re not hearing beyond it, because your justice is a sham. Kill him, and the one who framed him will be laughing in his fists.”
“I embezzled.” Phil spoke. “I didn’t embezzle. Which is the truth? Which is the lie?” He shrugged, his eyes wide in uncomprehending terror. His head fell forward, limp.
Suzuri lunged towards him, then reached behind her to break the arrow tip leashing her to the tree, with a flare of chakra. Her small frame threw itself between Phil and the archer. His face was cold. A thread of saliva trickled down his chin. He was losing too much blood. With difficulty, leaning on her leg that didn’t have an arrow through it, she turned and bowed to the ground. Her spine curled like a cat’s, revolting against leaving her friend uncovered.
She clutched her fist, digging wood shards deeper through her skin.
“Please…Let me get him to a doctor. I’ll paint something to carry him. I’ll stay.” Her lips were dry. “I’ll be your hostage.”
“I’m a bad liar.” He lulled. With a glint in his eyes, he shrugged off any attempt at subtleties. He looked down, shoulders sagging. “That was my official robe,” he whispered.
“You haven’t stolen anything.” Suzuri interfered.
“You don’t know me.”
The voice made the girl feel cold. Part of her said that yes, he was right. There were many facets of the young bureaucrat’s life that she wasn’t aware of. Yet to believe would be to betray. His words sounded crisp, like the little neat logs that he placed in a perfectly symmetrical scaffold on paper in that game – The Hangman. Her face changed.
“Release that arrow.” She snapped, and Phil turned around to stare. “Do it, and an innocent man will die.” Her words fell like a torrent. “You’ve said it yourself. People lie when the ones they care about are threatened. He’s lying to die. He’s clever.” Suzuri choked. “He’s so goddamn clever that he’s stringing bits of truth together into what you want to hear. And you’re not hearing beyond it, because your justice is a sham. Kill him, and the one who framed him will be laughing in his fists.”
“I embezzled.” Phil spoke. “I didn’t embezzle. Which is the truth? Which is the lie?” He shrugged, his eyes wide in uncomprehending terror. His head fell forward, limp.
Suzuri lunged towards him, then reached behind her to break the arrow tip leashing her to the tree, with a flare of chakra. Her small frame threw itself between Phil and the archer. His face was cold. A thread of saliva trickled down his chin. He was losing too much blood. With difficulty, leaning on her leg that didn’t have an arrow through it, she turned and bowed to the ground. Her spine curled like a cat’s, revolting against leaving her friend uncovered.
She clutched her fist, digging wood shards deeper through her skin.
“Please…Let me get him to a doctor. I’ll paint something to carry him. I’ll stay.” Her lips were dry. “I’ll be your hostage.”
SpoilerShow
Technique used:
[Ninjutsu • Chakra Burst]
D-Ranked Ninjutsu
After channeling chakra into one of their weapons, the user will then attempt to strike their target and if successful, they will release additional concussive force in the form of an outward explosion at D-Rank force from their weapon. If the user does not strike a target within 3 posts the jutsu dissipates.
[Ninjutsu • Chakra Burst]
D-Ranked Ninjutsu
After channeling chakra into one of their weapons, the user will then attempt to strike their target and if successful, they will release additional concussive force in the form of an outward explosion at D-Rank force from their weapon. If the user does not strike a target within 3 posts the jutsu dissipates.
Suzuri Rinrin | Inkstone | The Travelling Painter