Waterfall village's repairs were going smoothly, now that Yaksha had gained the people's approval. There were still muttered remarks of dissent as he passed by, but he ignored them, simply continuing about his patrol. People watched him with dispassionate gazes, some still determined to treat him as some sort of outsider, or intruder; he could feel their glares on him, but they seemed to slide off like water for all the impact he showed. This was his town now, a town he had lain claim to and several times shown himself determined to protect. These were his people, and even if they wouldn't admit it, he was the best protection they had.
One of the villagers approached him, almost frantic; he reached out to snag at Yaksha's sleeve, but his hand slid away effortlessly, and he slipped to the side, before laying a hand on the man's shoulder. "It's...Kumori, isn't it? I believe you're one of the masons."
"Yes, that's right, but we need your help! Someone's be-"
"The town's coming together quite nicely, isn't it? What do you think of the new houses we've been building?" He squeezed the man's shoulder, his voice seeming to bypass the man's ears completely, and hit right at his mind. A single flickered glance to one of the buildings was met was a dismissal grunt.
"The foundations are horrible, and it's been built into mud that'll be gone with the next hard rain. If we don't want to rebuild in a month, we'll need to start over." He brought a hand to his mouth, almost as if he were afraid of what he'd said; he glanced up at Yaksha with wide eyes, but the shinobi was already glancing at the building.
"Oh, my...I thought it would've been fine, but I suppose that's what happens when you don't spend years working with buildings. What was it you needed, then?"
"Someone's been hurt! We think he might be on the verge of death, and none of the doctors in the town can help him! You're going to have to hurry!"
"Really? Haven't I been stressing the importance of safety? I would've thought you gentlemen know how to watch out for each other on the job."
"This wasn't one of the workers, it's a child. He seems to have been assaulted. He's still delirious, but he said to send for a shinobi."
Yaksha's eyes widened, and his lips began to part just a bit; he almost sounded excited, as he spun the man back around.
"Take me to him."
What's In a Name?
What's In a Name?
Without risk, there was seldom reward.
That thought had played through the body thief's ancient, warped mind as he'd removed almost all of the protective fuuinjutsu from the slight frame of Ichiro before transferring his consciousness into the empty vessel. Yaksha was a clever little snake and knew full well that Renji was one of the more capable practitioners of the sealing arts in Waterfall.
The worker would lead Yaksha away from the village proper into the lush woodlands some fifteen minute's walk away. The Takigakure sky, swollen with moisture, began to empty in the form of a thick, steady drizzle. Such sun-showers were common enough that residents hardly bothered interrupting their routines when the clouds opened up, knowing that it would only be a few moments before the rain abated.
That merely meant that the boy Yaksha was led to would be soaked and broken when they came upon him.
Ichiro was a fairly pathetic sight on his best days- thin, malnourished, his features weak and his wide, vulnerable eyes a bit sunken. Today was clearly not his best day.
In addition to doing away with most of his fuuin, Renjiro had did quite a number on the teenage body. The boy's right eye was swollen almost entirely shut, and his lower lip was split wide open. A long gash presented itself on his forehead, no longer bleeding, but it would be hard to tell how much blood he'd lost as the driving rain washed away evidence.
His shirt was ripped, exposing a shoulder that was nearly purple, completely covered in an angry bruise. Other contusions and cuts marked his form as well, and the sum of them would easily have been enough to kill a normal fifteen year old. It rather looked like someone had been cutting the lad, bleeding him with a knife, and then gotten bored and decided to beat him near-to-death.
With his sensory jutsu, Renji knew full well that they were approaching, so he lay very still save to take shallow, reflexive breaths. He feigned unconsciousness, lying there face down in the mud. The wet and muck had already seeped into his tattered, threadbare clothing.
He waited patiently, fighting to keep a smile from Ichiro's battered lips.
This was going to be fun.
That thought had played through the body thief's ancient, warped mind as he'd removed almost all of the protective fuuinjutsu from the slight frame of Ichiro before transferring his consciousness into the empty vessel. Yaksha was a clever little snake and knew full well that Renji was one of the more capable practitioners of the sealing arts in Waterfall.
The worker would lead Yaksha away from the village proper into the lush woodlands some fifteen minute's walk away. The Takigakure sky, swollen with moisture, began to empty in the form of a thick, steady drizzle. Such sun-showers were common enough that residents hardly bothered interrupting their routines when the clouds opened up, knowing that it would only be a few moments before the rain abated.
That merely meant that the boy Yaksha was led to would be soaked and broken when they came upon him.
Ichiro was a fairly pathetic sight on his best days- thin, malnourished, his features weak and his wide, vulnerable eyes a bit sunken. Today was clearly not his best day.
In addition to doing away with most of his fuuin, Renjiro had did quite a number on the teenage body. The boy's right eye was swollen almost entirely shut, and his lower lip was split wide open. A long gash presented itself on his forehead, no longer bleeding, but it would be hard to tell how much blood he'd lost as the driving rain washed away evidence.
His shirt was ripped, exposing a shoulder that was nearly purple, completely covered in an angry bruise. Other contusions and cuts marked his form as well, and the sum of them would easily have been enough to kill a normal fifteen year old. It rather looked like someone had been cutting the lad, bleeding him with a knife, and then gotten bored and decided to beat him near-to-death.
With his sensory jutsu, Renji knew full well that they were approaching, so he lay very still save to take shallow, reflexive breaths. He feigned unconsciousness, lying there face down in the mud. The wet and muck had already seeped into his tattered, threadbare clothing.
He waited patiently, fighting to keep a smile from Ichiro's battered lips.
This was going to be fun.