“New caravans come through; it’s an odd lot this time. Should we tell the iwa-pricks?”
“Sounds like a hassle. Let them figure it out themselves.”
❦
Cloner’s Blues
Hatchling
2.03
Sandstorm in the distance?
Time to bunker down!
A plume of sand and dust framed a long row of humanity, many clustered inside covered wagons, each painted a dull yellow to match the sands and setting sun at their backs. Near the lead, a pair of girls facing each other walked towards a slowly nearing town that neither had a name for.
It was called something, but it was only a dot on the map and less important than the supposed ruins hidden deeper in the desert. Ruins, which, as far as anyone was concerned, were simply myths.
The world retreated around Ururu backward, her steps recklessly reversed. “You court death mongrel!” She shouted in her best theater voice, to the gasp and applause of no one.
Her clone, Hikaru, just rolled her eyes. “You’re going to fall, again, sis.” From across the Network, though, her more serious voice echoed, ‘Watch out for the pothole, a meter behind you, ten centimeters to your left.’
Fractionally, Ururu altered her gait, her arms spread out as she was balancing on a beam, narrowly dodging it. Her main concern was the caravan they had traveled with for the past week. She had tried to sign on for protection detail, but the man at the head of it had simply snorted and told her flat out that he wouldn't trust she could keep her word if she didn’t have a shiny forehead protector.
While fair, this left an annoying dent in their current finances that they hadn’t yet found a way to fix.
Ururu tilted her head with a slight grin. “See, I haven’t fallen yet.” Her tone had a playful lilt, but the scratch to it spoke of a need for water.
“Yes, it’s been a whole three kilos. Amazing. Spectacular. Putting all that academy training to good use.” Hikaru said, her tone slightly lower, with more than a little hint of mocking.
Ururu shrugged and focused her thoughts once more on the network, attempting to glean their exact location from Hikaru’s eyes without actually taking over the body or Hikaru directly sending her the information.
Vertigo struck like a bastard that wanted its money.
One foot slipped.
A stumble.
“That’s five,” Hikaru sing-songed as Ururu caught herself twisting around at the last second, letting her see the town for the first time with her own eyes. Her sight wobbled from the tangle that was her legs but she managed to get a decent glance.
Long shadows glared back at her; some sparse desert trees and several adobe buildings stood tall. There were several signs on each of them, some showing somewhat newly placed Iwagakure’s banner, others showing wanted signs, but what blared out at Ururu most was a ‘Chōja’ building with a heavy set door and a richly lacquered proclamation of general goods.
Perfect.
With an unwinding of her leg around the other, she dashed off at a mortal pace. “C’mon!”
“Shouldn’t we check with the Seimaru?” Hikaru called behind her.
Fuck that. If the bastard wouldn’t hire her, it wouldn’t be her problem if she didn’t check in. He hadn’t even said three words to them in the last week.
“Nah.” Ururu replied with a huff and pushed the door open to the merchant’s shop, only for the door to not open.
Locked?
“Konbanwa? Anyone there?” No one from the other side of the door answered.
She tried again just as Hikaru reached a step behind her. “Guess they’re closed?”
Dammit. “I’m thirsty.”
Hikaru cocked an eyebrow and pointed just beyond a few buildings where the trees stood. “Oasis is right over there.”
“Do you really want boiled water again?” Ururu asked. Hot water in a desert was just depressing, and they were fresh out of tea bags.
Her mirror image just shrugged. “Better than dying of thirst.”
Growling, Ururu abandoned the door, hope for cool water and essentials. There was always tomorrow, but still, they should be open!
Stomping her way toward trees and the smell of running water, Ururu noted that it was already occupied by a few individuals who had beaten the rest of the caravan over there. Guess the place was popular.
The area closest to the main road they were on seemed only to have one other situated at the oasis’ shore. That’ll do.
“Konbawa!” Ururu greeted for the third time this evening as she pulled off her massive backpack. “Mind if we join you?
It was only then that Ururu spied something dark on the far horizon.
Offtime at the Oasis
Offtime at the Oasis
Last edited by Darkarma on Sun Nov 24, 2024 1:53 pm, edited 9 times in total.
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Offtime at the Oasis
Sakaze of the Red Sands
The oases that dotted the desert of Wind Country were neutral ground for everyone, Iwa or not, because there was simply no other way to get through the rolling dunes of the desert without dying of thirst before you got halfway--meaning that Iwa never sent soldiers to the sanctuaries... at least, they hadn't yet. Sakaze even refrained from recruiting from such places, because if the oases could not be traveled unmolested by everyone, the war became much harder for both sides.
The Hokori weren't ready for that yet.
Instead, Sakaze sat by herself by the oasis's shore and turned over the rice and vegetables she was cooking, ensuring that the spices evenly coated each grain and the vegetables contained within, as she moved the deep pan back and forth over the smoldering embers of a fire that had been raging not long before. The fragrance of several kinds of squash, rice, and various spices being fried filled the air as she did so, and her mouth watered from hunger as she was tempted to forgo letting the meal cool and just tucking in--but restraint was part of her beliefs, and as she took the pan off the fire and set it in the rapidly-cooling sand to stop the meal from burning just as the two young girls came up to greet her.
The mad prophet looked up and greeted them with a kind smile, raising a hand to gesture to the spot beside her own tent. "Sun's greetings, my friends. Come, join me. You should hurry to set your tent, however--the storm will be upon us in a little under an hour," she remarked as she looked over to the dark clouds that seemed to blot out the horizon.
Sakaze took a kettle off a spit that hung over the embers as steam began to rise from its spout and reached over to a cup beside her, which seemed to have a perforated metal ball resting within, and poured the steaming water into the cup. A golden-brown color began to leach from the ball into the water and she set it to the side to allow the simple tea to steep.
Sakaze had seen the wanted posters as she'd entered the small settlement--even spotted her own, Sakaze of the Red Sands, with no physical descriptors beyond pale robes and the ability to manipulate the desert to her will. The artist's rendition made her look a ferocious thing, surrounded by swirling sand with an indistinct face, a portrayal that she wasn't entirely angry about--mostly because it meant they didn't know who they were looking for.
"Would you like some food? I made more than enough," she offered as she reached into her pack and pulled out a simple wooden bowl and spoon--the only kitchenware she carried, but then you were stupid if you overpacked in the desert. "I'm afraid you'd have to provide your own cutlery," she remarked with a good natured smile as she reached down to the pan and spooned the now-manageable rice and veggies into her own bowl and began eating.
The oases that dotted the desert of Wind Country were neutral ground for everyone, Iwa or not, because there was simply no other way to get through the rolling dunes of the desert without dying of thirst before you got halfway--meaning that Iwa never sent soldiers to the sanctuaries... at least, they hadn't yet. Sakaze even refrained from recruiting from such places, because if the oases could not be traveled unmolested by everyone, the war became much harder for both sides.
The Hokori weren't ready for that yet.
Instead, Sakaze sat by herself by the oasis's shore and turned over the rice and vegetables she was cooking, ensuring that the spices evenly coated each grain and the vegetables contained within, as she moved the deep pan back and forth over the smoldering embers of a fire that had been raging not long before. The fragrance of several kinds of squash, rice, and various spices being fried filled the air as she did so, and her mouth watered from hunger as she was tempted to forgo letting the meal cool and just tucking in--but restraint was part of her beliefs, and as she took the pan off the fire and set it in the rapidly-cooling sand to stop the meal from burning just as the two young girls came up to greet her.
The mad prophet looked up and greeted them with a kind smile, raising a hand to gesture to the spot beside her own tent. "Sun's greetings, my friends. Come, join me. You should hurry to set your tent, however--the storm will be upon us in a little under an hour," she remarked as she looked over to the dark clouds that seemed to blot out the horizon.
Sakaze took a kettle off a spit that hung over the embers as steam began to rise from its spout and reached over to a cup beside her, which seemed to have a perforated metal ball resting within, and poured the steaming water into the cup. A golden-brown color began to leach from the ball into the water and she set it to the side to allow the simple tea to steep.
Sakaze had seen the wanted posters as she'd entered the small settlement--even spotted her own, Sakaze of the Red Sands, with no physical descriptors beyond pale robes and the ability to manipulate the desert to her will. The artist's rendition made her look a ferocious thing, surrounded by swirling sand with an indistinct face, a portrayal that she wasn't entirely angry about--mostly because it meant they didn't know who they were looking for.
"Would you like some food? I made more than enough," she offered as she reached into her pack and pulled out a simple wooden bowl and spoon--the only kitchenware she carried, but then you were stupid if you overpacked in the desert. "I'm afraid you'd have to provide your own cutlery," she remarked with a good natured smile as she reached down to the pan and spooned the now-manageable rice and veggies into her own bowl and began eating.
CharactersShow
Offtime at the Oasis
The wind whipped Hikaru's hair around her face as she fought the urge to smack Ururu upside the head. Instead the red of her tank top twisted in her hands as her creator just asked to join the campsite of a stranger like a complete mountain monkey!
‘Rude!’
Ururu, for her part, was ignoring the furious pinging of different memories in the network, painting the mental scape with nearly every one of Mom’s lessons. Instead, her head was cocked slightly to her left, examining the person in front of them.
The robes were standard for the populace around here; the person on the side, though, maybe less so. Then again, they didn’t know the region well enough to say if there was a predominant ethnic appearance. They—possibly she, given their feminine frame and face—looked as old or older than mom would be. Though her skin wasn’t nearly as sunkissed as any of the locals
“Sun’s Greetings, friend—” That was an odd salutation.
She couldn't place it for life of her. Ururu had tried to study as much of the language and culture of the other countries they had been planning to visit as possible. But that one… was not part of it. Some sort of Wind Country tribe greeting? Something to look up later at least.
It was the words after the warning that were far more important.
A warning about the storm seemed self-evident, at least. Given the parched nature of the Wind Country climate, the rain seemed as unlikely as Konoha embracing pacifism.
“Would you like some food? I made more than enough,” the unnamed woman offered.
Just then, a subtle shift in the wind carried the intoxicating aroma of spices towards them. It smelled divine, like a home-cooked meal prepared by Dad, or maybe even like the delicious curry from their favorite restaurant back home.
Ururu's stomach chose that precise moment to rumble loudly, a sentiment her entire being wholeheartedly agreed with. "Sur—" she began eagerly, only to have Hikaru's hand clamp over her mouth, muffling her response incomprehensibly.
‘You’re being rude!’ Hikaru practically screamed in my proverbial ear while her natural lips spoke primly, “We wouldn’t want to impose. My sister Ururu and myself, Hikaru, have our own rations.”
‘She said she had plenty.’
Hikaru sent back. ‘What kind of person makes more food than they can eat while camping alone?’
A brief frown caught her lips. Ururu had no answer to that. 'Fine,' she conceded.
Released from Hikaru's iron grip, Ururu grinned at the woman. "Though we wouldn't mind the recipe if you're willing to share!" she chirped.
The sound of Hikaru's palm connecting with her own face echoed through the campsite, a sensation as painful as it sounded. Then with a murmur of resignation, the clone yanked the backpack open and began pulling out their own tent and bedding.
‘Rude!’
Ururu, for her part, was ignoring the furious pinging of different memories in the network, painting the mental scape with nearly every one of Mom’s lessons. Instead, her head was cocked slightly to her left, examining the person in front of them.
The robes were standard for the populace around here; the person on the side, though, maybe less so. Then again, they didn’t know the region well enough to say if there was a predominant ethnic appearance. They—possibly she, given their feminine frame and face—looked as old or older than mom would be. Though her skin wasn’t nearly as sunkissed as any of the locals
“Sun’s Greetings, friend—” That was an odd salutation.
She couldn't place it for life of her. Ururu had tried to study as much of the language and culture of the other countries they had been planning to visit as possible. But that one… was not part of it. Some sort of Wind Country tribe greeting? Something to look up later at least.
It was the words after the warning that were far more important.
A warning about the storm seemed self-evident, at least. Given the parched nature of the Wind Country climate, the rain seemed as unlikely as Konoha embracing pacifism.
“Would you like some food? I made more than enough,” the unnamed woman offered.
Just then, a subtle shift in the wind carried the intoxicating aroma of spices towards them. It smelled divine, like a home-cooked meal prepared by Dad, or maybe even like the delicious curry from their favorite restaurant back home.
Ururu's stomach chose that precise moment to rumble loudly, a sentiment her entire being wholeheartedly agreed with. "Sur—" she began eagerly, only to have Hikaru's hand clamp over her mouth, muffling her response incomprehensibly.
‘You’re being rude!’ Hikaru practically screamed in my proverbial ear while her natural lips spoke primly, “We wouldn’t want to impose. My sister Ururu and myself, Hikaru, have our own rations.”
‘She said she had plenty.’
Hikaru sent back. ‘What kind of person makes more food than they can eat while camping alone?’
A brief frown caught her lips. Ururu had no answer to that. 'Fine,' she conceded.
Released from Hikaru's iron grip, Ururu grinned at the woman. "Though we wouldn't mind the recipe if you're willing to share!" she chirped.
The sound of Hikaru's palm connecting with her own face echoed through the campsite, a sensation as painful as it sounded. Then with a murmur of resignation, the clone yanked the backpack open and began pulling out their own tent and bedding.
Last edited by Darkarma on Tue Nov 26, 2024 9:28 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Offtime at the Oasis
Sakaze of the Red Sands
Sakaze's gaze flicked between the two girls, sharp and discerning as the older one clamped her hand over the younger’s mouth. A brow arched in quiet curiosity, but the momentary puzzle solved itself quickly--trust was scarce, and it was clear the older sister wasn’t one to gamble with safety. Wise, Sakaze thought. The world wasn't kind, least of all to the trusting. Still, she felt no threat from them. They were young, travelers, perhaps hardened in ways that life demanded of anyone willing to cross the sands. But there was no malice in their stance, just wariness, and caution. Sakaze, in turn, harbored no intent to harm. She’d long since chosen her enemies--and these girls weren’t of the Rock Kingdom. That was enough.
“It’s no trouble, I promise,” she offered with a soft smile, one meant to reassure but not insist. Her voice, warm yet edged with the kind of weariness born of loss, carried across the campsite as the girls exchanged silent glances--an unspoken conversation familiar to sisters.
Sakaze felt a pang deep within, the ghosts of her own siblings stirring in her memory. It had been years since she'd had her own siblings to do it with--thanks to the faithless dogs of Iwa--but she still remembered the way they could have whole conversations with a series of looks and noises. She pushed the thought away, hiding the ache as she lifted her bowl and took another bite of the stir-fried rice, letting its warmth distract her. The spices reminded her of a different time, a different life--before the desert claimed her heart and the blood-soaked sands became her purpose.
“I always make extra when I’m camped by an oasis in case of company,” she continued, her smile faint but genuine. It was a truth rooted in her faith, in the traditions of her people--offering aid where she could, so long as those in need did not wear the insignia of Iwa. A simple kindness in a harsh world.
“As far as the recipe goes, it’s leftover rice, whatever vegetables I have on hand, and a few spices—white pepper, salt, saffron. Fry it up in the pan, and it usually turns out well enough,” she explained, her tone light with the ease of sharing something ordinary. For the briefest moment, she wasn’t Sakaze of the Red Sands, the woman who saw visions in the heat haze, or the seeker of vengeance. Here, beneath the vast expanse of desert sky, she was simply a traveler sharing a meal.
Sakaze's gaze flicked between the two girls, sharp and discerning as the older one clamped her hand over the younger’s mouth. A brow arched in quiet curiosity, but the momentary puzzle solved itself quickly--trust was scarce, and it was clear the older sister wasn’t one to gamble with safety. Wise, Sakaze thought. The world wasn't kind, least of all to the trusting. Still, she felt no threat from them. They were young, travelers, perhaps hardened in ways that life demanded of anyone willing to cross the sands. But there was no malice in their stance, just wariness, and caution. Sakaze, in turn, harbored no intent to harm. She’d long since chosen her enemies--and these girls weren’t of the Rock Kingdom. That was enough.
“It’s no trouble, I promise,” she offered with a soft smile, one meant to reassure but not insist. Her voice, warm yet edged with the kind of weariness born of loss, carried across the campsite as the girls exchanged silent glances--an unspoken conversation familiar to sisters.
Sakaze felt a pang deep within, the ghosts of her own siblings stirring in her memory. It had been years since she'd had her own siblings to do it with--thanks to the faithless dogs of Iwa--but she still remembered the way they could have whole conversations with a series of looks and noises. She pushed the thought away, hiding the ache as she lifted her bowl and took another bite of the stir-fried rice, letting its warmth distract her. The spices reminded her of a different time, a different life--before the desert claimed her heart and the blood-soaked sands became her purpose.
“I always make extra when I’m camped by an oasis in case of company,” she continued, her smile faint but genuine. It was a truth rooted in her faith, in the traditions of her people--offering aid where she could, so long as those in need did not wear the insignia of Iwa. A simple kindness in a harsh world.
“As far as the recipe goes, it’s leftover rice, whatever vegetables I have on hand, and a few spices—white pepper, salt, saffron. Fry it up in the pan, and it usually turns out well enough,” she explained, her tone light with the ease of sharing something ordinary. For the briefest moment, she wasn’t Sakaze of the Red Sands, the woman who saw visions in the heat haze, or the seeker of vengeance. Here, beneath the vast expanse of desert sky, she was simply a traveler sharing a meal.
Last edited by Throniv on Tue Nov 26, 2024 7:53 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Offtime at the Oasis
“I always make extra when I’m camped by an oasis in case of company,” the woman offered. The smile on her face seemed genuine.
And with those words, Ururu shot her clone a wry look. “See?”
Rolling her eyes, Hikaru slid out a thick rectangular mass of heavy canvas and what sounded like metal rods, straps, and possibly wood. “As long as it’s not imposing at all,” Hikaru said levelly before her tone turned sharp with a huff. “A little help?”
Ururu stiffened and jumped to help. “Right, sorry!” before sending Hikaru a, ‘Told you!’ as the wind started picking up.
‘Still rude. A proper guest should make all attempts to refuse generosity so as not to seem like they are taking advantage of their host.’ Hikaru reiterated that Ururu hadn’t heard her memories shouted at her just seconds ago.
‘Just as it is the host's responsibility to offer more than anyone can accept. I know. I was there.’
‘Just… let’s get the tent up before we die from exposure. I can come back to life; you cannot.’
‘Yes, I know, I’m working on that.’
The pair worked quickly. Hikaru would brace, the Ururu would unstrap, and once unstrapped, the entire device jerked wildly as it sprung open. The process would repeat itself, and it would unfold again. Each unfolding doubled its width or length until it was large enough to fit two full-sized adults with metal cords at six points along its parameter. The cords were then set with spikes and hammered down two at a time.
Once that was done, the academy dropout and clone converged on the center strap that seemingly was only attached to itself via two half-oval flaps. Either girl put their weight on the oval and carefully unlatched the final strap while bracing.
The thing jerked under their combined mass for a second time, and the whole two-dimensional structure pushed skyward as they eased off of it. Cables came taught, and canvas stiffened under the pained whine of thick springs, forming a dull yellow tent settled into shape with a deep resounding ‘thwap.’
The entire thing vaguely resembled a hollowed log embedded in the ground from years of sinking.
With a grin, Ururu grabbed their self-made stoneware and two small but hefty leather pouches that smelled strongly of smoke and salt before chucking the backpack that had burdened her the entire trip into the inside of the tent’s flap.
Beating Hikaru to the punch, Ururu offered the bags to the unnamed stranger, “We have some rabbit and venison if you want it with your meal.”
And with those words, Ururu shot her clone a wry look. “See?”
Rolling her eyes, Hikaru slid out a thick rectangular mass of heavy canvas and what sounded like metal rods, straps, and possibly wood. “As long as it’s not imposing at all,” Hikaru said levelly before her tone turned sharp with a huff. “A little help?”
Ururu stiffened and jumped to help. “Right, sorry!” before sending Hikaru a, ‘Told you!’ as the wind started picking up.
‘Still rude. A proper guest should make all attempts to refuse generosity so as not to seem like they are taking advantage of their host.’ Hikaru reiterated that Ururu hadn’t heard her memories shouted at her just seconds ago.
‘Just as it is the host's responsibility to offer more than anyone can accept. I know. I was there.’
‘Just… let’s get the tent up before we die from exposure. I can come back to life; you cannot.’
‘Yes, I know, I’m working on that.’
The pair worked quickly. Hikaru would brace, the Ururu would unstrap, and once unstrapped, the entire device jerked wildly as it sprung open. The process would repeat itself, and it would unfold again. Each unfolding doubled its width or length until it was large enough to fit two full-sized adults with metal cords at six points along its parameter. The cords were then set with spikes and hammered down two at a time.
Once that was done, the academy dropout and clone converged on the center strap that seemingly was only attached to itself via two half-oval flaps. Either girl put their weight on the oval and carefully unlatched the final strap while bracing.
The thing jerked under their combined mass for a second time, and the whole two-dimensional structure pushed skyward as they eased off of it. Cables came taught, and canvas stiffened under the pained whine of thick springs, forming a dull yellow tent settled into shape with a deep resounding ‘thwap.’
The entire thing vaguely resembled a hollowed log embedded in the ground from years of sinking.
With a grin, Ururu grabbed their self-made stoneware and two small but hefty leather pouches that smelled strongly of smoke and salt before chucking the backpack that had burdened her the entire trip into the inside of the tent’s flap.
Beating Hikaru to the punch, Ururu offered the bags to the unnamed stranger, “We have some rabbit and venison if you want it with your meal.”
CharactersShow
Offtime at the Oasis
Sakaze of the Red Sands
Sakaze watched the two girls work in perfect synchronization, her gaze lingering on the seamless coordination between them. The clinking of metal rods, the creak of taut canvas, and the deep thwap as the tent sprang into place merged with the rising wind, creating a rhythmic soundtrack to their labor. The hollowed log-like structure that emerged at the end was both practical and oddly charming, a testament to their resourcefulness. Her attention shifted as the younger of the two grinned and offered the leather pouches, the scent of smoke and salted meat wafting through the air.
“I appreciate your kindness, truly, but I must decline. My faith does not permit me to eat meat,” the kunoichi declined as she picked up her tea from the small stand that sat next to the simple stool she was sitting on and took a drink. “Please enjoy it yourselves, though."
Sakaze glanced toward the tent with a small smile. “Your tent is impressive. Efficient and well-made,” she remarked, her tone light with admiration. “You two move like seasoned travelers. The desert can be unforgiving to those unprepared, but you’ve clearly mastered its challenges.” Her gaze lingered on the two of them for a moment longer as she took another bite of her meal, seemingly unheeding of the sandstorm that was coming their way. Her own tent stood not too far off, a small circular dome that seemed just large enough to accomodate herself and her pack and sat low enough to the ground that the winds would not blow it away.
Not that the desert had posed a danger to herself in a long time.
“What brings you two this far out into the desert, if you don't mind my asking? Not many from other places make it this far into Wind Country," she asked curiously, though she did her best to avoid sounding too interested. She knew travelers were wary these days, and at this point she was truly just making conversation.
Sakaze watched the two girls work in perfect synchronization, her gaze lingering on the seamless coordination between them. The clinking of metal rods, the creak of taut canvas, and the deep thwap as the tent sprang into place merged with the rising wind, creating a rhythmic soundtrack to their labor. The hollowed log-like structure that emerged at the end was both practical and oddly charming, a testament to their resourcefulness. Her attention shifted as the younger of the two grinned and offered the leather pouches, the scent of smoke and salted meat wafting through the air.
“I appreciate your kindness, truly, but I must decline. My faith does not permit me to eat meat,” the kunoichi declined as she picked up her tea from the small stand that sat next to the simple stool she was sitting on and took a drink. “Please enjoy it yourselves, though."
Sakaze glanced toward the tent with a small smile. “Your tent is impressive. Efficient and well-made,” she remarked, her tone light with admiration. “You two move like seasoned travelers. The desert can be unforgiving to those unprepared, but you’ve clearly mastered its challenges.” Her gaze lingered on the two of them for a moment longer as she took another bite of her meal, seemingly unheeding of the sandstorm that was coming their way. Her own tent stood not too far off, a small circular dome that seemed just large enough to accomodate herself and her pack and sat low enough to the ground that the winds would not blow it away.
Not that the desert had posed a danger to herself in a long time.
“What brings you two this far out into the desert, if you don't mind my asking? Not many from other places make it this far into Wind Country," she asked curiously, though she did her best to avoid sounding too interested. She knew travelers were wary these days, and at this point she was truly just making conversation.
CharactersShow
Offtime at the Oasis
No… meat?
Ururu fell back on her butt, tucking her legs underneath her before rolling the thought through her head. Her head tilted slightly to the left and right like a lizard trying to swallow a particularly stubborn meal, or in this case, realization.
No meat felt, just alien. And kinda boring. Some of her favorite meats were meat. You just didn’t not do meat. Who didn’t eat meat?!
‘Strange robed women who share food with random kids?’ Hikaru supplied, then her presence in the network bloomed with thought, ‘Haven’t heard of any faiths that don’t do meat.’
‘Not exactly covered in beginner’s course of murdering cute helpless animals.’
‘Yeah, if you don’t eat meat, you probably wouldn’t kill either.’
Ururu blinked and slowly retracted the two pouches and just set them back down, it was better to save them as rations. Still, the idea of no meat kept her slightly at a loss until the stranger switched subjects and mentioned the tent. It was one of her earliest successful creations before she realized exactly what her parents had signed her up for in the academy. It was worth about half a C-Rank mission or a year of allowances.
She almost thanked the woman for the compliment before remembering that ordinary girls her age didn’t do things like that. Sure, they didn’t travel alone and were unsupervised in caravans either. But it was… probably more believable.
What exactly did ten-year-old girls who were genius academy dropouts do? Especially those who didn’t grow up in Ninja villages.
From what she and Hikaru had seen, they mostly helped out with chores and played Ninja or Samurai. Sometimes, Assassin Seek. But most of those didn’t strike her as genius prodigies either. Just ordinary people, as if the dumb dumb of their class didn’t go to class.
Suppose stories were believed, poached by wandering cultivators, or rather, in reality, wandering ninja, which was far less wholesome than a master wanting an apprentice to succeed them on the path of immortality.
So what to say? The truth?
‘What’s she going do, stop us?’ Hikaru chimed in. ‘Just keep it simple.’
Ururu shrugged and finally replied, growing smirk, “We’re traveling the world, but I heard a rumor there were ruins under the sand. I wanna see if I can find them.”
Hikaru had repeatedly given her even odds that if there were ruins out there, finding them would be near impossible and unlikely to have anything regarding jutsu. But for Ururu, it was the chance that was more important. Uncovering a town would require lots of work, and it’d help her master her doton better.
Even if they didn’t find anything important, history itself still had value.
Too many things were destroyed by war. Day by day, history could be lost.
How did one know where they were if they couldn’t see where they had been?
It wasn’t knowledge of jutsu, but it was still knowledge.
That was something to Ururu, and it even amused Hikaru on occasion.
Ururu fell back on her butt, tucking her legs underneath her before rolling the thought through her head. Her head tilted slightly to the left and right like a lizard trying to swallow a particularly stubborn meal, or in this case, realization.
No meat felt, just alien. And kinda boring. Some of her favorite meats were meat. You just didn’t not do meat. Who didn’t eat meat?!
‘Strange robed women who share food with random kids?’ Hikaru supplied, then her presence in the network bloomed with thought, ‘Haven’t heard of any faiths that don’t do meat.’
‘Not exactly covered in beginner’s course of murdering cute helpless animals.’
‘Yeah, if you don’t eat meat, you probably wouldn’t kill either.’
Ururu blinked and slowly retracted the two pouches and just set them back down, it was better to save them as rations. Still, the idea of no meat kept her slightly at a loss until the stranger switched subjects and mentioned the tent. It was one of her earliest successful creations before she realized exactly what her parents had signed her up for in the academy. It was worth about half a C-Rank mission or a year of allowances.
She almost thanked the woman for the compliment before remembering that ordinary girls her age didn’t do things like that. Sure, they didn’t travel alone and were unsupervised in caravans either. But it was… probably more believable.
What exactly did ten-year-old girls who were genius academy dropouts do? Especially those who didn’t grow up in Ninja villages.
From what she and Hikaru had seen, they mostly helped out with chores and played Ninja or Samurai. Sometimes, Assassin Seek. But most of those didn’t strike her as genius prodigies either. Just ordinary people, as if the dumb dumb of their class didn’t go to class.
Suppose stories were believed, poached by wandering cultivators, or rather, in reality, wandering ninja, which was far less wholesome than a master wanting an apprentice to succeed them on the path of immortality.
So what to say? The truth?
‘What’s she going do, stop us?’ Hikaru chimed in. ‘Just keep it simple.’
Ururu shrugged and finally replied, growing smirk, “We’re traveling the world, but I heard a rumor there were ruins under the sand. I wanna see if I can find them.”
Hikaru had repeatedly given her even odds that if there were ruins out there, finding them would be near impossible and unlikely to have anything regarding jutsu. But for Ururu, it was the chance that was more important. Uncovering a town would require lots of work, and it’d help her master her doton better.
Even if they didn’t find anything important, history itself still had value.
Too many things were destroyed by war. Day by day, history could be lost.
How did one know where they were if they couldn’t see where they had been?
It wasn’t knowledge of jutsu, but it was still knowledge.
That was something to Ururu, and it even amused Hikaru on occasion.
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Offtime at the Oasis
Sakaze of the Red Sands
Sakaze watched the girls with a curious intensity, her dark eyes catching the subtle tilt of her head, the quizzical expressions flickering across her face like shadows in the desert sun. There was a spirit to the child--a strange blend of innocence and cunning--that spoke of both youth and something far more practiced, and Sakaze had met few who could shift so easily between curiosity and calculation. The scars were the only thing that differentiated the twins before her, and to say she wasn't curious about them would be a lie. It would also be incredibly rude to ask about something like that, even from children, and she wasn't interested in drawing any more attention to herself.
One thing was for sure, however: these weren't normal children.
The mention of the ruins they were looking for made the kunoichi pause as she took another bite of her meal, her brow furrowing in confusion. There were many ruins dotted throughout the Land of Wind. The desert was not kind to its inhabitants, and it was easier to fail than to thrive in these harsh environs, but there was very little in any of them that should be of concern to young girls--even strange young girls that seemed to have at least some kind of academy training, if the way they expertly set up their shelter was any indication.
"Ruins, hm?" she asked after she swallowed her mouthful of food, bringing one hand up to her chin in thought as she went through what she knew about the area.
"I believe there are some to the northeast of here, built into a cliff face--it was a tomb, I believe. Or perhaps a temple..." she trailed off into a mutter as she tried to remember what she'd heard--she'd traveled the length and breadth of her country at this point, but there were always new things that the shifting sands revealed. The sandstorms, such as the one brewing on the horizon now, shifted the landscape constantly, and new ruins and remnants showed up every few months as the face of the desert changed.
"At any rate, I wish you luck in that endeavor. There are some places in the desert that are dangerous, though, especially now that the Rock Kingdom's occupation has eliminated the patrols that used to keep bandits in check. Be careful," she warned, her voice hardening as she mentioned her hated enemy.
Sakaze watched the girls with a curious intensity, her dark eyes catching the subtle tilt of her head, the quizzical expressions flickering across her face like shadows in the desert sun. There was a spirit to the child--a strange blend of innocence and cunning--that spoke of both youth and something far more practiced, and Sakaze had met few who could shift so easily between curiosity and calculation. The scars were the only thing that differentiated the twins before her, and to say she wasn't curious about them would be a lie. It would also be incredibly rude to ask about something like that, even from children, and she wasn't interested in drawing any more attention to herself.
One thing was for sure, however: these weren't normal children.
The mention of the ruins they were looking for made the kunoichi pause as she took another bite of her meal, her brow furrowing in confusion. There were many ruins dotted throughout the Land of Wind. The desert was not kind to its inhabitants, and it was easier to fail than to thrive in these harsh environs, but there was very little in any of them that should be of concern to young girls--even strange young girls that seemed to have at least some kind of academy training, if the way they expertly set up their shelter was any indication.
"Ruins, hm?" she asked after she swallowed her mouthful of food, bringing one hand up to her chin in thought as she went through what she knew about the area.
"I believe there are some to the northeast of here, built into a cliff face--it was a tomb, I believe. Or perhaps a temple..." she trailed off into a mutter as she tried to remember what she'd heard--she'd traveled the length and breadth of her country at this point, but there were always new things that the shifting sands revealed. The sandstorms, such as the one brewing on the horizon now, shifted the landscape constantly, and new ruins and remnants showed up every few months as the face of the desert changed.
"At any rate, I wish you luck in that endeavor. There are some places in the desert that are dangerous, though, especially now that the Rock Kingdom's occupation has eliminated the patrols that used to keep bandits in check. Be careful," she warned, her voice hardening as she mentioned her hated enemy.
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Offtime at the Oasis
“Ruins, hm?”
Ururu nodded. Every country had them, but they often resettled, rebuilt, or built over. Wind, though, was an opportunity. If a place like this wasn’t maintained, a simple sandstorm could easily start the process of burying it for good.
The fact that the ones she knew of were northeast wasn’t great; it’d be a detour but also another chance of finding something. Ururu had the plotted ones out much closer to where they were. And from the maps she had studied, if there was a route northeast, the road from this down had been just as buried as any other abandoned place.
The grin on Ururu’s face melted away at the mention of Iwa conquering the region. For seemingly no reason, they had done it. The way they didn’t didn’t have reason to either. No reason at all. Or if they did have a reason, it was one the Ururu or Hikaru could easily define.
Her finger tapped her leg twice, and slight frustration grew upon her lips.
“…eliminated the patrols…”
That right there was the worst. It hurt everybody. There was zero gain in letting banditry run wild.
“I don’t get it.” Ururu finally said, “Both Iwai kingdom’s motives and their hidden village going along with it. You can’t build an empire on conquered land that army salts behind them.” It was a quote from the main villain of Rise of the Dragon God Immortal. One that, for the longest time, Ururu hadn’t understood until her tactics class in the Academy. The second part of the quote, though, took her house burning down and almost ripping her face off to understand. “Nor can an army protect their homes a battlefield away.”
Individuals of great power and craft would always be a knife in the back of any movement that attempted to conquer the entire continent. And you still needed the little people to feed the great and powerful. One could not live without the other. People needed shinobi to shield themselves from enemy shinobi or whatever thing that grew up to take shinobi’s place.
Resources had to be divided up and hoarded where needed but if you threw off the balance, you left both parties scrambling and not caring one with about the other.
Which made Suna so out of place.
This land was borderline dead. Nothing grew out here.
Ururu waved her hand to the town at large. “They’re gobbling up every scrap of land they can. Even land like this that doesn’t have any ability to support an army. It’s spreading themselves thin and spreading ill will, giving everyone reasons not to support them at the most critical time. It gains them nothing but gives their enemies a reason to work together.”
Why?
Ururu tilted her head, “And how can they hold it or stop bandits from attacking them.”
She paused. “unless they’re bribing the bandits.” But then she shrugged and shook her head.
That seemed a step way too far, like hiring a burglar to go after your neighbor’s less impressive horde of gold, which sounded supremely stupid to her. You couldn’t trust bandits not to steal from you. Sure, they might delay their plans for you, but you’ll just be the desert rather than the main course. And if anyone found out then… it was going to make everyone hate each other, which meant more death. More deaths just meant the entire continent would fracture even more.
“But what do I know?” Ururu growled into her food dish, stabbing into food finally. “I just read political war dramas about knockoff ninja magic.”
There was some truth in those pages she read, but she couldn’t take a work of fiction as gospel either. But damn if they hadn’t read like someone with experience.
Ururu nodded. Every country had them, but they often resettled, rebuilt, or built over. Wind, though, was an opportunity. If a place like this wasn’t maintained, a simple sandstorm could easily start the process of burying it for good.
The fact that the ones she knew of were northeast wasn’t great; it’d be a detour but also another chance of finding something. Ururu had the plotted ones out much closer to where they were. And from the maps she had studied, if there was a route northeast, the road from this down had been just as buried as any other abandoned place.
The grin on Ururu’s face melted away at the mention of Iwa conquering the region. For seemingly no reason, they had done it. The way they didn’t didn’t have reason to either. No reason at all. Or if they did have a reason, it was one the Ururu or Hikaru could easily define.
Her finger tapped her leg twice, and slight frustration grew upon her lips.
“…eliminated the patrols…”
That right there was the worst. It hurt everybody. There was zero gain in letting banditry run wild.
“I don’t get it.” Ururu finally said, “Both Iwai kingdom’s motives and their hidden village going along with it. You can’t build an empire on conquered land that army salts behind them.” It was a quote from the main villain of Rise of the Dragon God Immortal. One that, for the longest time, Ururu hadn’t understood until her tactics class in the Academy. The second part of the quote, though, took her house burning down and almost ripping her face off to understand. “Nor can an army protect their homes a battlefield away.”
Individuals of great power and craft would always be a knife in the back of any movement that attempted to conquer the entire continent. And you still needed the little people to feed the great and powerful. One could not live without the other. People needed shinobi to shield themselves from enemy shinobi or whatever thing that grew up to take shinobi’s place.
Resources had to be divided up and hoarded where needed but if you threw off the balance, you left both parties scrambling and not caring one with about the other.
Which made Suna so out of place.
This land was borderline dead. Nothing grew out here.
Ururu waved her hand to the town at large. “They’re gobbling up every scrap of land they can. Even land like this that doesn’t have any ability to support an army. It’s spreading themselves thin and spreading ill will, giving everyone reasons not to support them at the most critical time. It gains them nothing but gives their enemies a reason to work together.”
Why?
Ururu tilted her head, “And how can they hold it or stop bandits from attacking them.”
She paused. “unless they’re bribing the bandits.” But then she shrugged and shook her head.
That seemed a step way too far, like hiring a burglar to go after your neighbor’s less impressive horde of gold, which sounded supremely stupid to her. You couldn’t trust bandits not to steal from you. Sure, they might delay their plans for you, but you’ll just be the desert rather than the main course. And if anyone found out then… it was going to make everyone hate each other, which meant more death. More deaths just meant the entire continent would fracture even more.
“But what do I know?” Ururu growled into her food dish, stabbing into food finally. “I just read political war dramas about knockoff ninja magic.”
There was some truth in those pages she read, but she couldn’t take a work of fiction as gospel either. But damn if they hadn’t read like someone with experience.
Last edited by Darkarma on Fri Dec 06, 2024 9:06 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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