The bartenders at the Shoku Cafe found themselves to be quite a bit busier than usual. While the patrons typically comprised of the locals of Mikadzuki and those living in the surrounding area, tonight they found themselves host to a large variety of newcomers. In the back corner was what appeared to be a wealthy traveller and his family, all of them dressed in fine dress silks and talking quite a bit louder than the local farmers and working men who sat at the bar. The oldest man at the table, presumably the father, was heavyset and sported a well groomed beard. He was intoxicated and loud, but seemed to be harmless otherwise. A woman set next to him, her hair in a bun, her face flush with drink, and likely embarrassment caused by her raucous husband. Their children sat across from them, a young man and woman who looked to be a few years younger than Satori. They sat mostly in silence, too young to drink and uncomfortable in a strange location.
Satori sat at the end of the bar, furthest from the door. The rest of the stools were filled with what appeared to be locals, farmers and working men whose clothes were caked with dirt. They talked quietly and politely amongst themselves, simply enjoying a drink or a bite to head before heading home to rest. Satori was definitely a standout, with his rabbit mask and many swords. Aside from the occasional passing glance, however, the other patrons left him to his sake, which was just fine by him. It wasn't the men at the bar that had caught Satori's attention, however, but a group of 5 individuals sat around a table towards the center of the room. They were dirty, but not in the same way that the locals were. They seemed greasy and unwashed, but their clothes seemed relatively unsoiled in comparison to the farmers. They carried a variety of weapons, mostly cheap swords and knives. Satori was wary, but not overly suspicious. This town was not all that far from a main road, and was likely to attract any number of people from different backgrounds.
The young man thought of his home, nearly on the other side of the world. It had been over a year now since he had left the village in search of new strength. But even after all that time, he was still not used to being the stranger in the room. He did miss the sense of family he had found in Kumogakure, where even strangers were friends. And being a jinchuuriki, the ward of the Raikage, and a war hero, it was rare for him to meet someone who didn't know his name and face. This newfound anonymity was, at first, comforting. Being an introvert, Satori often grew tired of the attention that he received at home. It almost made him feel isolated and alone that, in a village of acquaintances, he had few true friends. But he had never truly experienced loneliness until he left. He wanted nothing more than to return, but there was still a long way for him to go before he was ready for that. Satori sighed, and motioned for the bartender to pour him another sake. After this, he would need to retreat to his room. Traveling was expensive, and he would need to start the morning early looking for work. After pouring Satori's drink, the bartender made his way around the pub lighting candles as the sun had begun to set.
Shadows and Moonlight: Part I
Shadows and Moonlight: Part I
| Sunakimi, Yozora | D-rank Ronin | Minor Country | #D2A846 | ▶ |
| Senju, Yamabiko | Genin | Konohagakure no Sato | #9370D8 | ▶ |
Shadows and Moonlight: Part I
Say one thing about the stranger wandering into town, say he looked like a smelly hobo person.
Each step looked like a chore of its own, as if gravity itself was picking on him in particular. His usually pale skin was covered in dirt and dust from the road and wilds, his long, black hair peppered with the odd twig and leaf. The man's grim expression didn't help make him any less of a spectacle and, even though he was too weary to spot even subtle social norms, mothers were shielding the eyes of children and pulling them off the path in which his trajectory was stumbling. The wanderer's hardy travel clothes were dark and simple with accents of olive green, muted red and navy blue. A black, collared traveler's cloak draped over his shoulders and extended further down the left side than the right. A dark, round brimmed hat hung from his neck by a string and rested on his back and bobbled with each labored step.
Finally the man came to a heavy stop near the center of the small village, much like how a boulder settles at the bottom of a steep hill. His thin, dark eyes panned left, panned right, and settled on somewhere in the middle. There was a moment of tense silence, and then there was not.
"INN?!" he screamed to no one in particular. The dozen or so villagers stopped and shot concerned glances at the man, his thousand yard stare unyielding. "INNNNNNNN-NUH."
An older gentleman shakily raised a hand fitted with an extended index finger. The wanderer's eyes, and only his eyes, groaned in their sockets and stared at the man, then at his finger and finally at the building down the street he was pointing to. The stranger gave as enthusiastic of a thumbs-up as he could muster before trudging forward, his bones creaking and complaining all the way. 56 steps later the stranger walked through the inn's doorway.
That room's occupants could have been actual elephants on actual fire playing the bagpipes made out of his aunt and he may not have noticed. The man was on a mission, and nothing else would distract him. The wanderer found a space at the bar and sat down, an actual cloud of dirt and debris fanning out as his weight settled on the chair. The bartender, who was busy lighting candles around the room, noticed the dark cloaked man and quickly made his way behind the counter.
"Howdy, there!" the barkeep said in a sickeningly welcoming tone. "What can I do for ya this fine day, sir?"
The black haired man flashed his best smile and said, "I'm looking for a warm meal, a soft bed and maybe a bath if you could spare it?" He produced a simple coin purse from under the cloak and rummaged around in its depths, looking mildly concerned for a moment before breathing with relief and pulling out several coins. The wanderer placed the money on the oaken bar and said, "Will this get me there? I'm afraid I don't have much more to my name."
The barkeeper scooped up the coins and counted it before nodding. "Yupperooney, that'll do it! So what'll you have?"
The stranger practically melted right there in his seat at the thought of warm food. "Bread," he said. "And some beef stew, if you have it. Please."
The barkeep tapped the bar and with a smile was off again.
Each step looked like a chore of its own, as if gravity itself was picking on him in particular. His usually pale skin was covered in dirt and dust from the road and wilds, his long, black hair peppered with the odd twig and leaf. The man's grim expression didn't help make him any less of a spectacle and, even though he was too weary to spot even subtle social norms, mothers were shielding the eyes of children and pulling them off the path in which his trajectory was stumbling. The wanderer's hardy travel clothes were dark and simple with accents of olive green, muted red and navy blue. A black, collared traveler's cloak draped over his shoulders and extended further down the left side than the right. A dark, round brimmed hat hung from his neck by a string and rested on his back and bobbled with each labored step.
Finally the man came to a heavy stop near the center of the small village, much like how a boulder settles at the bottom of a steep hill. His thin, dark eyes panned left, panned right, and settled on somewhere in the middle. There was a moment of tense silence, and then there was not.
"INN?!" he screamed to no one in particular. The dozen or so villagers stopped and shot concerned glances at the man, his thousand yard stare unyielding. "INNNNNNNN-NUH."
An older gentleman shakily raised a hand fitted with an extended index finger. The wanderer's eyes, and only his eyes, groaned in their sockets and stared at the man, then at his finger and finally at the building down the street he was pointing to. The stranger gave as enthusiastic of a thumbs-up as he could muster before trudging forward, his bones creaking and complaining all the way. 56 steps later the stranger walked through the inn's doorway.
That room's occupants could have been actual elephants on actual fire playing the bagpipes made out of his aunt and he may not have noticed. The man was on a mission, and nothing else would distract him. The wanderer found a space at the bar and sat down, an actual cloud of dirt and debris fanning out as his weight settled on the chair. The bartender, who was busy lighting candles around the room, noticed the dark cloaked man and quickly made his way behind the counter.
"Howdy, there!" the barkeep said in a sickeningly welcoming tone. "What can I do for ya this fine day, sir?"
The black haired man flashed his best smile and said, "I'm looking for a warm meal, a soft bed and maybe a bath if you could spare it?" He produced a simple coin purse from under the cloak and rummaged around in its depths, looking mildly concerned for a moment before breathing with relief and pulling out several coins. The wanderer placed the money on the oaken bar and said, "Will this get me there? I'm afraid I don't have much more to my name."
The barkeeper scooped up the coins and counted it before nodding. "Yupperooney, that'll do it! So what'll you have?"
The stranger practically melted right there in his seat at the thought of warm food. "Bread," he said. "And some beef stew, if you have it. Please."
The barkeep tapped the bar and with a smile was off again.
CharacterShow
Former Hokage • Konoha • Nara Tousha
Shadows and Moonlight: Part I
Satori was snapped out of his brooding by the creek of the door, he turned and was immediately hit with a strong sense of deja vu. He couldn't help but stare at the man. Even through the filth and debris, he found this man to be oddly familiar. He continued staring as the man lumbered his way to the bar, seemingly unaware of Satori's lack of manners. Exhaustion seemed to float off of him along with the dirt. While Satori was certain that he had never met him before, he could not shake the feeling that he should know who this man was. Something about him seemed to be incredibly familiar. Even in his stupor, Satori could see the signs of a seasoned fighter in his gait and posture. Perhaps he was some renowned shinobi or samurai that that he had read about some time ago. Satori shook his head, and looked back to his drink. No, he thought. It was probably nothing more than being in the presence of a trained fighter that had brought on this feeling. Satori had spent his entire life around men like him, and they were few and far between since he left the village.
The sun had finished setting, and Satori found himself with an empty cup and no desire to sleep. He again motioned silently for a fill, and the bartender quickly complied. The familiar stranger sat beside him and ordered food. He seemed to fit right in among the locals, but the manner in which he spoke signaled that he was not one.
The man in the corner had grown drunker with the night, slurring his words and haphazardly bumping things as he talked. He seemed to be asking for another drink, but the waitress was refusing it.
"Whatchya mean I can't have anymo? This a bar, innit?" He was clearly growing frustrated, but his tone seemed to be tinged in confusion rather than anger. The children hung their heads, while the wife placed a hand on his shoulder in a vain attempt to calm him.
"We're not that kind of bar here, mister. We can't have ya gettin' sick or nothin'. Most these people have work to do in the mornin'." She seemed unsure of the situation, not accustomed to dealing with unruly patrons.
The man responded by pulling out a fat leather coin purse bigger than his fist and slapping it on the table, rattling the plates and glasses. A few gold coins tumbled out and clinked to the table. "Yawanna make sumunny t'night uh what? Huh?"
The sudden noise was enough to stop most conversation in the bar, and several heads turned to watch the commotion.The bartender audibly sighed, but did not leave his post. The waitress stammered out a few more lines of protest, which prompted the rich man to stand. Well, attempt to. His knees buckled and he fell backwards into his seat, half slumping onto his wife, who was growing visibly frustrated with the man. The man let out a loud, hoarse laugh and again asked for a drink.
There was the loud and sudden noise of chairs scraping against the floor, followed by crashing and breaking glass. By the time Satori had turned to see the source of the noise, it was too late- all of the greasy men had stood from their chairs, two of them rushing towards the back table while the other three stood and drew their rough-forged weapons. One of the men grabbed the leather coin purse from the table and made a mad dash for the door, the other grabbed the rich man's daughter from behind. He wrapped his arms around her upper body, pinning her arms to her sides, and jerked her violently from the chair.
Satori stood quickly, reaching across his body to grip one of the katanas sheathed at his waist. The Eye of Heaven, which Satori had stored beneath the counter at his feet, snapped back into place and floated behind Satori's back. Satori drew the sword across his chest and raised his arm above his head, with the blade pointed towards the pair of bandits in the back corner. He released the sword grip, the momentum suspending it in the air just long enough for him to flip his hand and grip the sword, now holding it upside down. He then threw the sword as if it were a spear. The blade flew through the air, where it stuck into the wooden floor between the feet of the man who had grabbed the girl. Satori meant this as a warning, that he was not afraid to fight. He was not concerned with the man making off with the money, his attention entirely on saving the girl. He wasted no time drawing the second sword sheathed at his waist, this time holding it so that it crossed his chest.
"Let her go."
The rest of the room had grown quiet, save for the sounds of the young woman struggling to break the bandit's grip.
The sun had finished setting, and Satori found himself with an empty cup and no desire to sleep. He again motioned silently for a fill, and the bartender quickly complied. The familiar stranger sat beside him and ordered food. He seemed to fit right in among the locals, but the manner in which he spoke signaled that he was not one.
The man in the corner had grown drunker with the night, slurring his words and haphazardly bumping things as he talked. He seemed to be asking for another drink, but the waitress was refusing it.
"Whatchya mean I can't have anymo? This a bar, innit?" He was clearly growing frustrated, but his tone seemed to be tinged in confusion rather than anger. The children hung their heads, while the wife placed a hand on his shoulder in a vain attempt to calm him.
"We're not that kind of bar here, mister. We can't have ya gettin' sick or nothin'. Most these people have work to do in the mornin'." She seemed unsure of the situation, not accustomed to dealing with unruly patrons.
The man responded by pulling out a fat leather coin purse bigger than his fist and slapping it on the table, rattling the plates and glasses. A few gold coins tumbled out and clinked to the table. "Yawanna make sumunny t'night uh what? Huh?"
The sudden noise was enough to stop most conversation in the bar, and several heads turned to watch the commotion.The bartender audibly sighed, but did not leave his post. The waitress stammered out a few more lines of protest, which prompted the rich man to stand. Well, attempt to. His knees buckled and he fell backwards into his seat, half slumping onto his wife, who was growing visibly frustrated with the man. The man let out a loud, hoarse laugh and again asked for a drink.
There was the loud and sudden noise of chairs scraping against the floor, followed by crashing and breaking glass. By the time Satori had turned to see the source of the noise, it was too late- all of the greasy men had stood from their chairs, two of them rushing towards the back table while the other three stood and drew their rough-forged weapons. One of the men grabbed the leather coin purse from the table and made a mad dash for the door, the other grabbed the rich man's daughter from behind. He wrapped his arms around her upper body, pinning her arms to her sides, and jerked her violently from the chair.
Satori stood quickly, reaching across his body to grip one of the katanas sheathed at his waist. The Eye of Heaven, which Satori had stored beneath the counter at his feet, snapped back into place and floated behind Satori's back. Satori drew the sword across his chest and raised his arm above his head, with the blade pointed towards the pair of bandits in the back corner. He released the sword grip, the momentum suspending it in the air just long enough for him to flip his hand and grip the sword, now holding it upside down. He then threw the sword as if it were a spear. The blade flew through the air, where it stuck into the wooden floor between the feet of the man who had grabbed the girl. Satori meant this as a warning, that he was not afraid to fight. He was not concerned with the man making off with the money, his attention entirely on saving the girl. He wasted no time drawing the second sword sheathed at his waist, this time holding it so that it crossed his chest.
"Let her go."
The rest of the room had grown quiet, save for the sounds of the young woman struggling to break the bandit's grip.
| Sunakimi, Yozora | D-rank Ronin | Minor Country | #D2A846 | ▶ |
| Senju, Yamabiko | Genin | Konohagakure no Sato | #9370D8 | ▶ |
Shadows and Moonlight: Part I
It wasn't long before a steaming hot bowl of stew was placed in front of the weary traveler. The man fought back tears as the barkeep produced a generous slice of thick, fresh baked wheat bread and poured a tall glass of ice cold milk. Seeing the happiness blossom across the wanderer's face the barkeeper chuckled and idly began cleaning a dirty mug.
"Where ya from, stranger?" the barkeep asked, watching as the black haired man grabbed the bread and broke it in half. "'Round these parts, everybody knows every-other body. Can't say I can place yer face."
The wanderer dipped the seed laden bread into the stew and took a greedy bite. "You'fe probabry ne'ber hearve of it," he said through half a mouthful of grub. The thin eyed traveler grabbed a home-carved wooden spoon and dug into the stew before bringing it to his lips. He chewed for a few moments and moaned, slipping back into his seat and turning his face to the ceiling. "Oh my good lord," he said, sitting back up in his seat and dipping the spoon back into the piping hot stew. "You've saved my life, sir. Thank you."
The barkeeper waved off the compliment with the hand rag. "Ain't nuthin' doin'" he said humbly with a belly shaking chuckle. "Once yer done there I'll 'ave a bath drawn fur..."
The man trailed off as the wanderer happily ate and drank, his attention drawn to the far corner of the room. His brow furrowed in confusion as one of the patrons seemed to be growing more and more belligerent, and then a moment later the wealthy gentleman plopped a bloated coin purse on the table with a loud, metallic clank. The barkeep could only let out a shout as the five greasy men sitting at a table near the center of the room shot to their feet and darted to the corner table, easily overwhelming the nobleman and his family. One of the men grabbed the coin purse and ran for the door before the barkeep could make his way around the counter, disappearing into the night with his spoils. The barkeep stopped moving from behind the bar when he saw that the men had drawn weapons.
The black haired stranger, however, seemed too immersed in his meal to pay the rest of the room much mind. He continued happily eating his meal as another man stood and confronted the thugs who had taken the drunk gentleman's daughter hostage.
"Is there saffron in this?" he asked the barkeep, breaking the tense silence. "Tastes like saffron."
Meanwhile, the men who were holding the nobleman's daughter hostage brandished dilapidated weapons at the sword-tossing youth. Their weaponry paled in comparison to the Shinobi's, but the man holding the frightened girl pressed the blade to her neck all the same. A neglected edge would still slice through her skin like butter, and the look in the thug's eye more than hinted that he was more than willing to spill blood if he needed to.
"I don't think so," he said with a cruel, jagged smile. "Got plans for this one. Big plans, right?" The other men smiled and stepped forward, their movements fueled by newfound confidence. Admittedly the sight of a young man hurling a sword across the bar like a javelin had put the men off their game, but they reasoned this kid had jut got lucky, that he was bluffing to act all tough for the pretty young lady.
The men chuckled as they stepped even closer, while the man holding the girl took a step back and to the right, towards the inn's front entrance and exit. "Get 'im, boys!" he ordered, his smile devolving into a harsh scowl.
With that the remaining three men lunged at the youth with an inelegant battle cry, each one aiming a slash at their opponent's head, torso and legs.
"Where ya from, stranger?" the barkeep asked, watching as the black haired man grabbed the bread and broke it in half. "'Round these parts, everybody knows every-other body. Can't say I can place yer face."
The wanderer dipped the seed laden bread into the stew and took a greedy bite. "You'fe probabry ne'ber hearve of it," he said through half a mouthful of grub. The thin eyed traveler grabbed a home-carved wooden spoon and dug into the stew before bringing it to his lips. He chewed for a few moments and moaned, slipping back into his seat and turning his face to the ceiling. "Oh my good lord," he said, sitting back up in his seat and dipping the spoon back into the piping hot stew. "You've saved my life, sir. Thank you."
The barkeeper waved off the compliment with the hand rag. "Ain't nuthin' doin'" he said humbly with a belly shaking chuckle. "Once yer done there I'll 'ave a bath drawn fur..."
The man trailed off as the wanderer happily ate and drank, his attention drawn to the far corner of the room. His brow furrowed in confusion as one of the patrons seemed to be growing more and more belligerent, and then a moment later the wealthy gentleman plopped a bloated coin purse on the table with a loud, metallic clank. The barkeep could only let out a shout as the five greasy men sitting at a table near the center of the room shot to their feet and darted to the corner table, easily overwhelming the nobleman and his family. One of the men grabbed the coin purse and ran for the door before the barkeep could make his way around the counter, disappearing into the night with his spoils. The barkeep stopped moving from behind the bar when he saw that the men had drawn weapons.
The black haired stranger, however, seemed too immersed in his meal to pay the rest of the room much mind. He continued happily eating his meal as another man stood and confronted the thugs who had taken the drunk gentleman's daughter hostage.
"Is there saffron in this?" he asked the barkeep, breaking the tense silence. "Tastes like saffron."
Meanwhile, the men who were holding the nobleman's daughter hostage brandished dilapidated weapons at the sword-tossing youth. Their weaponry paled in comparison to the Shinobi's, but the man holding the frightened girl pressed the blade to her neck all the same. A neglected edge would still slice through her skin like butter, and the look in the thug's eye more than hinted that he was more than willing to spill blood if he needed to.
"I don't think so," he said with a cruel, jagged smile. "Got plans for this one. Big plans, right?" The other men smiled and stepped forward, their movements fueled by newfound confidence. Admittedly the sight of a young man hurling a sword across the bar like a javelin had put the men off their game, but they reasoned this kid had jut got lucky, that he was bluffing to act all tough for the pretty young lady.
The men chuckled as they stepped even closer, while the man holding the girl took a step back and to the right, towards the inn's front entrance and exit. "Get 'im, boys!" he ordered, his smile devolving into a harsh scowl.
With that the remaining three men lunged at the youth with an inelegant battle cry, each one aiming a slash at their opponent's head, torso and legs.
CharacterShow
Former Hokage • Konoha • Nara Tousha