Open A night out in the town

Later that night after the whole fiasco with the full blown battle that happened earlier that day, Kureji found himself in a quiet bar and grill place sitting in a corner with his guitar. He sustained nearly zero injuries with the exception of a few scrapes and bruises, but he got off way better than most of the Sand shinobi force. There were rumors going about him. Mostly of how crazy he is, which was true. But it made nearly everyone wary of him as he had single handedly, took out three people, one of which was controlling fearsome creatures under their command just by summoning more creatures and monsters.

He's been referred to as a loose canon, which is to say something, considering that during that same conflict, Akkuma, his father, nuked everyone, friend and foe alike. Kureji very well could do something on a bigger scale. Heck, he himself had nuked Crater City. But his gears were turning about Golden Sanctuary.... An underground place. He could really let loose in there. But considering how he already owes a debt for causing so much destruction, he may have to talk to the leadership first about that. If they don't care, he'll really let loose. If they want to minimize destruction, he'll begrudgingly will try and minimize the damage.

Then the thoughts went on to these supposed twins. He absent mindedly struck some chords on his guitar as he relished at the thought of what he would do to them. What did they do to him to deserve these dark thoughts? Nothing really. Not even them threatening his old stomping grounds, aka his old home, has warranted such thoughts, no. No, what warranted these thoughts was the fact that these people traffic other people. To Kureji, who has now made it his whole persona to be free and strive for a truly free world, this is something that he cannot overlook. He smiled creepily to himself as he thoughtlessly struck some chords and fantasized about new ways to deal with these Twins in fun and creative ways. Though... Perhaps he was too focused....

He looked around to see some people may have been effected in some way by his powers. The twitch of the eyes, the clutching of fists, the feral look that some people might have looking at others, almost as if they're ready to lunge. Yes a genjutsu user that can mess with reality is also insane. Not a good combination to have. He pushed those dark thoughts off to the side and thought about food. Immediately the tone of the place shifted back to normal. Kureji decided to get a giant bacon cheeseburger with some chili cheese fries. After ordering his food he would lean back in his booth and think about how hungry he is.

The bar’s door opened slowly, not from hesitation, but from weight.

Stone dust still clung to my sleeves, and tangled in my hair which was still pulled back in a loose and messy bun, settling into the seams of my clothes no matter how many times I brushed at it. I carried the smell of earth with me when I stepped inside, which fucking stank. I smelled like dry sand, crushed rock, the lingering breath of the tunnels. Hours spent in the exposed underground, clearing collapsed passages so the mobile village could move again. So it could breathe.

I paused just inside the threshold.

Warmth hit me first. Lantern light. Low voices. The muted clink of glass on wood. After the oppressive stillness below, the sound felt distant, almost unreal. I felt my shoulders ease as the door closed behind me, sealing away the groan of shifting stone and the memory of tunnels that had tried to bury the living.

I scanned the room out of habit—not for threats, but for patterns. Who was loud. Who was quiet. Who kept their back to the wall.

And then I saw him.

Mother Fucking Kureji.

My eyes rolled, but it was fine because he looked older than the memory I carried of him. A chuckle slipped from my snide grin. The posture was the same. The presence hadn’t faded, only settled deeper, like someone who had survived long enough to become part of the landscape instead of being shaped by it.

He didn’t look at me, rude.

Of course he didn’t.

I moved farther in, boots leaving faint chalky prints on the floor before I noticed and brushed them away with the edge of my heel. My hands ached, chakra exhaustion humming beneath my skin. Clearing debris wasn’t glorious work. It was slow. Boring. Dangerous in ways battle never was. One mistake and the ceiling came down. One misjudgment and the tunnels sealed forever.

I chose a seat that gave me a clear view of the room without putting me at its center. A habit learned long before this body existed.

Only then did I let myself breathe. The bar sounded like a village still standing. People who had survived the day, even if they didn’t yet know how close the ground had come to swallowing them whole. My gaze drifted back to that bitch, Kureji. I bet he didn’t know who I was.

That was fine.

But it wouldn't last for long.

[MFT:250+]

As he waited for his food, he absentmindedly would play some chords on his guitar, occasionally looking around to see if his food had come yet or if anyone has paid him any attention. Attention is always something that Kureji has to be selective about. He may be a rocker who wants all eyes on him as they rock out with him. But he's also no idiot. A missing ninja just casually hanging around the very Village that he left. By all accounts, he had left as quietly as possible, to which it would be hard to pin him as a person that nuked from here unless they did some extensive research on him. Not impossible, but rather difficult. His changing bodies nearly like clothes also helps.

But this body he has now... He bent reality itself to give himself a new look. But either way, he knew to look for the signs. And.... Well he did catch a pair of eyes staring at him. Some cute woman. He feels like he should know her. But due to his lifestyle and chaotic nature, he doesn't really remember where he seen her before. So he did the next best thing. He smiled at her and waved. And just a mere second after he waved at her the waiter came by with his food. Kureji's eyes lit up and could feel his mouth salivating.

Priorities! Food first! The bacon cheeseburger was as big as his head! He would look at it in awe before turning his attention to the chili cheese fries. They smelled amazing! He ate a couple and felt like he was floating. Finally, he attacked the cheeseburger. Every bite made him love every bit of it. He was sure that if someone tried to take his food, he would fight them for it. Of course, the waiter would come by and ask him how the food was when his mouth was full. How is it that they always seem to do that? It sure seems like a superpower! He merely made out a nod as he demolished the food. The thing is, being out and selling yourself as a freelance worker, a mercenary, means some days you go hungry.

Kureji has been rather selective of his money until very recently, using the excuse that he'll eventually get paid by sand officials by doing these missions against the Baron twins, that he can both pay off a debt and not worry about food at the same time!

After finishing his food, he cleaned himself up to see that woman was still staring at him. So he naturally walked up and then said, "Cool if I sit here?"

As Kureji approached, I raised an eyebrow, a glass of water finally arriving at my table. I watched the condensation bead down the side of the glass, suddenly aware of how parched I'd been.

"Sure, why not."

I gave an arrogant grin, leaning back in my chair with deliberate casualness.

"Gonna buy a girl something to eat, or are you going to go on about freedom and shit again?"

My physical form was hungry. It was always hungry. A sensation I was not used to—this constant gnawing need that never seemed satisfied. But the craving to punch someone? That remained constant, familiar, almost comforting in its consistency. I would take a sip of my water and set it down with a soft clink against the table. The cool liquid did little to settle the restlessness coiling in my gut. I looked over to the waitress who was helping another table, her attention completely occupied by a group of loud patrons.

"Hey, dollface. Get me something to eat, put it on this guy's tab alright?"

I gestured lazily toward Kureji with my thumb, not bothering to look at him as I spoke. The waitress glanced over, caught my eye, and gave a quick nod before returning to her current customers.

I looked back to Kureji, letting my gaze settle on him with undisguised scrutiny. There was something off about his timing, showing up here like this.

"Why are you back in Sunagakure? Last time you were here you gave a half-ass concert and your groupie wanted to jump a bunch of kids out in what—Soon's Haven, was it?"

My eyes narrowed accusatorily, my fingers drumming once against the table. I didn't trust him. Not then, not now. People like him always had an angle, always wanted something. And I'd be damned if I let myself get played without seeing it coming.

"You gotta say please first," Kureji told her as he sat down. He waited as the woman ordered some food and then he started talking, "So I noticed you staring at me-" He was cut off as the woman asked why he was in Suna and the last time he was here, he gave a half assed concert and him and his groupie jumped some kids?

He took offense, to only one of those things. "Hey, I don't half ass. I either full ass, or no ass." He paused after he said that, "That sounds weird but that is besides the point. As for groupie... I think you are using the word wrong. A groupie is a bunch of fans that would follow a celebrity in hopes that they would meet and talk to them or get an autograph. Which I'm flatterred if you were actually using the word right, if you were assuming I was famous enough back then, which I admit that I wasn't. As for jumping kids?" He gave her a look of disbelief, "We have our own code of honor to live by, and whilst it may look like it on a separate perspective, me and my own will only tango with the ones that actually will fight."

He leaned back in his chair, "Like them bozo's that attacked the Village earlier today. Some dude was controlling these fantastic beasts and monsters against their will till I showed up and called upon all the wild sand worms. I then rode on the back of this giant flying sand manta ray and it felt AMAZING!" He kept talking passionately as if they aren't even remotely close to being enemies.

"Those people deserved every bit of karma that came to em. Controlling beasts that magnificent is a crime! I even kicked one of them into the mouth of a sandworm for him to pay for his crimes! Now I just gotta get my hands on those twin people." He smiled and she probably could even see his eyes sparkle with mischief on what he could do to these people. "I could drive them insane, blow them up, or even stuff them in my guitar.... Though.... I'll save you the details." That last one.... Yeah, he stuffed a person in his guitar. Let's just say that even by his standards, that may have been a bit messed up.

"As for why I'm here, I'm here to get money, kick some ass, and talk to my old man." He looked at her as he stopped talking and examined her face, "You look familiar... Have we met before?"

I let out a sharp laugh, the sound cutting through his passionate rambling about sand worms and manta rays. My fingers stopped drumming against the table as I leaned forward, elbows resting on the worn wood.

"Full ass or no ass. Right."

My grin turned sharper, more predatory.

"And here I thought you were just blowing smoke up everyone's ass that day in Soon's Haven."

The waitress returned with my food—some kind of sandwich piled high with meat and vegetables. I didn't wait for pleasantries, just grabbed it and took a bite, chewing deliberately while keeping my eyes fixed on him. Let him squirm a little under the scrutiny. The flavors hit my tongue and I had to suppress the urge to devour the entire thing in seconds. This constant hunger was still something I was adjusting to—having a body that demanded fuel, that needed sustenance beyond just chakra and willpower.

When I swallowed, I pointed at him with the sandwich still in hand.

"You want to know if we've met? Yeah, we've met. But I looked different then. Taller. Male. Actually I was my brother—who was way too patient with your bullshit."

I took another bite, watching his face for recognition. Would he remember? Did it even matter if he did? The sandwich was good—really fuuucking good—but I forced myself to pace it, to not look like some starving animal even though that's exactly what this body felt like half the time.

"Chikamatsu Shin. That name ring any bells in that chaotic fucking head of yours? Or were you too busy doing lines with people on guitars to remember the only Sunan who actually gave a damn about your 'code of honor'?"

My tone carried an edge, but underneath it was something else—curiosity, maybe. Or the faint echo of whatever connection Shin had felt toward this maniac. I set the sandwich down and leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I was there, Kureji. In Soon's Haven. I saw the whole damn thing. The concert, the aftermath, all of it. I just wasn't in the driver's seat at the time."

I paused, letting that sink in. How did you explain being someone's inner demon made flesh? How did you tell someone that you used to exist only in the dark corners of another person's mind, whispering violence and fury into their thoughts?

"Shin and I... we shared the same body. Same mind. I was the part of him he kept locked away, the part that wanted to rip and tear and burn every—fucking—thing that pissed us off. He was the reasonable one. The one who gave people like you second chances when you didn't deserve them."

I picked up my water glass and took a long drink, washing down the sandwich and buying myself a moment to gauge his reaction.

"But things changed. Bodies change. Now I've got my own, thanks to my twin brother's insane genius with like medical shit or puppetry, and his damn homunculi creations. So here I am—Kohana. Former rage demon, shadow of the Overseer, Persona of the Kazekage... current... well, I'm still figuring that part out."

I gestured vaguely at myself with my free hand.

"So yeah, we've met. You just didn't know I was watching. And now you owe me a meal, so I guess we're even. For now."

Kureji would listen as the woman would talk about who she is, kind of going into a whole monologue of the whole thing. He only interrupted her once when she asked if he knew someone by the name of Chikamatsu Shin.

"Sounds familiar but doesn't really ring any bells." He would say plainly. He would listen as she would finish her little speech. He would clap and applaud her. "Sounds like you came to the right person" He would say. He didn't really get that two souls in one body thing.... Well.... Actually, he does. He's learned all about the dark arts of putting one soul in a separate body but he's never heard of two souls one body. It won't be impossible, but rather more so unlikely.

"Music. It reaches into your very soul and gets you moving to the beat of things. It tells you who you are all the while being subtle about it. First and foremost, we have to find what genre of music best suits you. Everyone has different tastes and all music is good in their own way." He would take his guitar and strum some chords.

"For me. I am all about living life to the fullest and being free. I am for the most part, unfiltered and would tell it how I see it. Rock and roll speaks to me in volumes in such ways that only people who can think like me would feel. That and there's some insane guitar riffs that are just absolutely amazing!" He would hand the guitar over to Kohana, "Give it a try."

I stared at the guitar he thrust toward me, then back up at his face, trying to figure out if he was fucking with me.

"Did you just... completely miss the part where I told you I used to be a literal rage demon?"

My hand hesitated over the instrument. The wood was worn smooth from use, marked with scratches and dents that told stories I couldn't read. I took it carefully, more out of curiosity than any real desire to play. The weight of it felt foreign in my hands—heavier than a kunai, lighter than a puppet's control bar.

"I don't know shit about music, Kureji. Shin was the artistic one. He did poetry, calligraphy, all that fancy bullshit."

I positioned the guitar awkwardly across my lap, fingers hovering over the strings like they might bite. The posture felt wrong, unnatural. Everything about this felt wrong.

"I was the part of him that wanted to punch people in the face until they stopped moving. That was my genre. Violence. Chaos. The sound of bones breaking and people screaming."

But even as I said it, my fingers pressed down on the strings experimentally, producing a discordant twang that made me wince. I tried adjusting my grip, mimicking the way I'd seen him hold it moments before.

"Though I guess that's the problem, isn't it? I don't have Shin's memories to fall back on anymore. No inherited skills, no borrowed experiences. Just... this." I gestured at myself with one hand while the other stayed on the guitar. "A body that's constantly hungry, constantly restless, constantly trying to figure out what the fuck it's supposed to be now that it's not just the monster in someone else's head."

I looked down at the instrument again, jaw clenched.

"So yeah. Maybe music is a place to start. Or maybe I'll just break your guitar. Fifty-fifty odds at this point."

Despite the harsh words, I didn't hand it back. My fingers moved again, searching for something that didn't sound like complete garbage.

Kohana had looked at him like he's stupid or something before voicing her own concerns. He shrugged, "What you used to be doesn't have to be who you are now. That's the beauty of music. It does so much more than act as a hobby or an entertainment. So many people connect to it because it helps them through tough times. Or it builds them up to who they are now. Who you are, Kohana, is a different person than who you were yesterday." It was probably one of the only ever wise things that he has said.

He then laughed and then said, "I am appalled that you would compare my music to being close to fancy shmancy kind of stuff. That is another thing. There is no refined community that holds a say to any genre of music. It all exists with one another and open for everyone to enjoy." He would rest his chin on his hands as he would look into her eyes as she explained who she thought that she was. "That's so metal. Metal is even more pronounced than rock and roll and, if you can believe it, is more raw and forthcoming of emotion, mainly that comes out as anger or wanting to really stand up and yell at the top of your lungs."

She then seemed to understand that she is basically on her own. "So tell me, who are you then?" The tone in his voice would suggest more than just asking her name. He now knows it, for now, but it was more to ask her to search within herself. "What do you want?" He would wait patiently as she would strum the chords and he would smile as she seemed to be good for someone that hasn't touched a guitar.

I stopped mid-strum, fingers frozen on the strings. His questions hung in the air between us like he'd just dropped some profound truth bomb that was supposed to shake my world.

"Who am I? What do I want?"

I let out a sharp bark of laughter that made a few nearby patrons glance our way.

"Oh, so now we're doing therapy sessions? Should I lie down on a couch while you psychoanalyze me with your guitar?"

But my fingers were already moving across the strings again, angry and clumsy, producing discordant sounds that somehow felt more honest than anything pretty would've been. I kept at it, refusing to let the awkwardness of not knowing what I was doing stop me.

"Metal. Raw and forthcoming. Anger and screaming." I repeated his words with a sneer, but there was something in my voice... recognition, maybe. "Yeah, okay. That doesn't sound completely terrible."

Another strum, harder this time. The strings bit into my fingertips and I welcomed the sting.

"You want to know what I want? Fine. I want to stop feeling like I'm wearing someone else's skin. I want to hit something without wondering if it's what Shin would've done. I want to make choices that are mine, not borrowed, not inherited, not some leftover instinct from being stuck in someone's fucking head for years."

I adjusted my grip on the guitar, copying his hand position with more aggression than finesse.

"Shin spent his entire existence being the responsible one. The perfect puppet master. The Kazekage everyone could count on. Always thinking three steps ahead, always considering the consequences, always playing the long game."

My fingers fumbled through another chord progression. It sounded like garbage, but I kept going anyway.

"I was always screaming in the background. The part that wanted to burn it all down just to see what would rise from the ashes. The violence he kept locked away because it wasn't 'appropriate' for someone in his position."

I looked up at him with a fierce grin, eyes blazing.

"And you know what the really fucked up part is? Now that I've got my own body, now that I can actually do whatever the hell I want without dragging Shin down with me... I don't know what that is. I spent so long being the monster he kept chained up that I never thought about what I'd do if someone actually let me off the leash."

Another strum, and this time something almost resembling a melody emerged from the chaos.

"So yeah, Kureji. Who am I? I'm still figuring that shit out. What do I want? To stop feeling like I'm waiting for instructions on how to exist."

I played through another sequence, my fingers starting to find a rhythm even if they didn't know the right notes yet.

"But here's what I do know, I'm done apologizing for taking up space. I'm done second-guessing every impulse. And I'm definitely done with anyone trying to tell me who I should be based on who I was."

I looked at him directly, challenge written across my face.

"You said metal is about emotion. About standing up and yelling at the top of your lungs. About being raw and unfiltered."

Then something shifted in my expression, a wild spark that Shin would've immediately tried to suppress.

"You wanna see metal?"

I stood up abruptly, guitar still in hand, and scanned the bar with predatory focus. My eyes locked onto a guy near the back, broad shoulders, the telltale posture of someone who knew how to fight, probably a shinobi based on the way he carried himself. The kind of asshole who thought he owned whatever space he occupied.

Perfect.

I started walking toward him, weighing the guitar in my hands like I was testing its balance. The wood felt solid. Heavy enough to make an impact.

"Raw and forthcoming, right?" I called back to Kureji without looking, my grin widening. "Let's see how this thing sounds when you really commit to the performance."

The guy didn't even see me coming.

CRACK

The guitar connected with the back of his head with a satisfying crunch of wood meeting skull. He went down like a sack of rocks, his drink shattering on the floor beside him. The entire bar went silent.

I stood over him, breathing hard, the now-cracked guitar still gripped in both hands. Adrenaline sang through my veins, finally, something that felt right.

I turned back to Kureji, eyes bright with violence and a devilish grin that pushing close to joy.

"That metal enough for you?"

The silence was deafening. Frankly, Kureji wasn't really expecting that. He figured that all village shinobi were responsible rule followers that were too uptight to even give in to random impulses. He was wrong. He was the first to break the silence as he hysterically laughed, "Oh shit. I didn't think that you would do something like that!" He wiped a tear from his eyes but then focused on people starting to gather around Kohana. He smiled as he scooped Kohana up in his arms and ran out as people were yelling and throwing things.

He wouldn't stop until they were out of sight in a back alley and he had set her down on the ground. He was giggling a bit as he looked at her. "That was...." He trailed off, leaving her to guess what he is going to say, "EPIC! You should have seen how angry that guy's buddies were." Kureji looked down at the ruined guitar and back up at her while he smiled, "Now that was metal!"

Kureji would let Kohana gather her own thoughts before he would ask her, "How ya feel? Got some of those feelings out finally. Now you're you. I gotta say, you're a natural! Now we gotta get you your own guitar and so you can really learn to shred those chords!

He would lean against the wall of a building, putting his hands in his pockets. There was something that she had said back in the bar and grill. That she was done apologizing for taking up space. Kureji felt that. He wanted to help those who didn't fit in with Village society. Ultimately, it is up to each individual what they want to do with their lives and he doesn't hold it against them if they choose one way or another. He would look at her in her eyes as he would say, "I don't think that you're a waste of space. You deserve to be here and exist. And you should never apologize for existing." He smiled at her, but this was a more genuine smile than his usual crazed smiles.

The silence was deafening for about half a second before all hell broke loose.

People started shouting, chairs scraped against the floor, and I could see the guy's buddies scrambling to their feet. That's when Kureji scooped me up like I weighed nothing, and my first instinct kicked in—but not to fight him.

"THAT'S RIGHT, YOU FUCKING PUSSIES!" I screamed over Kureji's shoulder as he bolted for the door, my middle fingers raised high in the air. "YOUR BOY GOT DROPPED BY A GIRL WITH A FUCKING GUITAR! HOW'S THAT FEEL?!"

Something—probably a glass—shattered against the doorframe as we burst through it.

"WHAT, YOU GONNA CRY ABOUT IT?! COME ON THEN! I'LL PUT THE REST OF YOU DIPSHITS IN THE DIRT TOO!" I was still shouting, still flipping them off with both hands as Kureji carried me down the street. "BET NONE OF YOU WEAK FUCKS HAVE THE BALLS TO ACTUALLY FOLLOW US OUT HERE!"

More shouting behind us. Someone was definitely calling for peacekeepers now.

"YEAH, GO GET THE AUTHORITIES! TELL THEM CHIKAMATSU KOHANA JUST GAVE YOUR FRIEND A FREE FUCKING LOBOTOMY! TELL THEM THE KAZEKAGE'S SISTER THINKS YOU'RE ALL WORTHLESS SACKS OF SHIT!"

Kureji was laughing, actually hysterically laughing, as he ran, which only made me more fired up.

"YOUR BUDDY'S GONNA WAKE UP TOMORROW WITH A HEADACHE AND THE MEMORY OF GETTING HIS ASS BEAT BY SOMEONE HALF HIS SIZE! ENJOY THAT FUCKING EMBARRASSMENT!"

I caught a glimpse of them still gathering at the bar entrance, none of them actually chasing us.

"THAT'S WHAT I THOUGHT! ALL BARK, NO BITE! BUNCH OF COWARDS!"

He didn't stop running until we were deep in a back alley, finally setting me down on solid ground. My heart was pounding, adrenaline still singing through every nerve. I was still laughing, not the polite kind either. The kind that came from somewhere deep and genuine, raw and unfiltered. The kind Shin would've locked down immediately because it made him sound unhinged. It was in this moment that sensation of hunger I had experienced since I was given this form was gone.

Fuck, maybe I was unhinged.

"Epic?" I repeated his earlier assessment, still gripping the cracked guitar like a trophy. "That was fucking necessary."

I examined the damage to the instrument—splintered wood, a crack running down the neck, strings hanging loose. It was beautiful in its destruction. A physical representation of what I'd just done: taken something meant for creation and turned it into a weapon.

"You know what the best part was?" I looked up at him, eyes still bright with violence and something close to euphoria. "I didn't hesitate. Didn't second-guess. Didn't stop to wonder if Shin would approve or if it was the 'right' choice. I just... did it."

I turned the guitar over in my hands, running my fingers along the crack.

"This whole time, I've been walking around in this body wondering who the fuck I'm supposed to be now that I'm not just the voice in someone's head. And you know what? Smashing this guitar over that asshole's skull was the first thing that's felt genuinely mine since I got this body."

When he said I deserved to exist, that I should never apologize for it, something in my chest tightened. Not in a bad way... no... more like... recognition. Like hearing something I'd needed to hear but hadn't known I was waiting for.

I looked at him directly, that fierce grin softening just slightly into something more genuine.

"You're a weird fucking guy, Kureji. Most people would've run the other direction or tried to stop me. But you?" I gestured with the broken guitar. "You grabbed me and ran with me. That's... actually pretty fucking cool, my guy."

I leaned against the opposite wall, hands pressed into my pockets as well, still catching my breath from the run and the rush.

"And yeah, I feel way better. Like I finally did something that was completely, unapologetically me. No Shin's influence, no wondering what the 'appropriate' response would be, no holding back because of some position or reputation to maintain."

I looked down at the ruined guitar again, then back up at him.

"So about that guitar you mentioned... getting me my own." My grin turned wicked. "Think we should get two? One to actually learn on, and one for emergencies?"

I pushed off the wall, still riding the high of what I'd just done.

"But seriously, Kureji. Thanks. For not trying to fix me or tell me I need to calm down or be more like Shin. For just... fucking letting me figure this shit out in my own fucked up way."

I offered him the broken guitar.

"Sorry about your guitar though. I'll get you a new one. After I get mine. Which, based on tonight's lesson, should probably be reinforced steel instead of wood."

He rubbed the back of his neck as she had said that he was weird for having her back. "Well I guess I am a cool weird guy. My body moved on its own. I felt... Like I was pulled to you." He realized what he had just said, or rather the wording. But it was too late to back out on that now. He would look up at the sky and took a deep breath. He wondered if he has opened up too much. He's used to getting turned down, that's part of life. But he decided to brush it off and continue on with the conversation.

"You don't need to be fixed. You're perfect the way you are to me." Crap crap crap! Abort abort! In his mind, he is screaming at himself, thinking that he is trying too hard and might be coming off as a creep. Even as he internally facepalmed himself, he wore a relaxed expression as he had said those words.

Looking down at the broken guitar, he was actually surprised at how she managed to destroy it. "Yeah, two steel guitars would be good for you. As for me..." He pointed at his now broken guitar, more so the finer details of it. Kohana would see that there were actually components in the guitar that closely resembled that of a puppet weapon. She would also see augments attached to the internals of the guitar to include that of something that is known to be used by those who harness the powers of the Cadency Core ability. "It is a tad bit harder to replace that. But don't worry about it. Not the first time it got destroyed. Won't be the last time." He would take the guitar from her and seal it inside a scroll to be able to hold it better without losing anymore parts.

He would smile at her, "I gotta admit. I never thought I'd have fun like this with anyone from the Village. Looks like you proved me wrong." He was hoping that he wasn't creeping her out earlier with his wordings. Usually he would shoot his shot, barely trying, just to be turned down. But now he is actually trying. Is he really crushing hard for her? Is this what it means?

"Pulled to me? Perfect the way I am?"

I crossed my arms, tilting my head as I studied him with a sharp, assessing look. Was this fucker actually trying to flirt with me right now? After I'd just committed assault with his guitar?

The corner of my mouth twitched upward despite myself.

"Kureji, you really are a special kind of stupid, aren't you?"

But there wasn't any real venom in it. Just... observation. Stating facts. I watched as he sealed away the broken guitar, catching glimpses of the puppet mechanisms and Cadency augments in its guts. Fancy shit. Way more complicated than the weapon I'd turned it into.

"Damn, you really did put some work into that thing. My bad."

I kicked at a loose stone in the alley, sending it skittering into the darkness. My heart rate was finally starting to settle, but that electric feeling—the one from cracking that guitar over someone's skull—still buzzed under my skin. It felt good. It felt right.

I glanced back at him, and something in his expression made me pause. He actually looked... genuine. Not like he was playing some angle or trying to manipulate me into something. Just honest-to-fuck honest, which was so rare it almost made me uncomfortable.

"You know what? Fuck it."

I moved closer, invading his personal space the way I tended to do when I wanted to make a point.

"I'm not gonna pretend I know what the hell I'm doing half the time. But tonight? Smashing that asshole's face in with your guitar? That felt like me. Actually me. Not some bullshit I'm supposed to be or some role I'm filling."

My grin turned wicked.

"So here's the deal, rockstar. You want to hang around? Fine. But I'm not some groupie who's gonna follow you around batting my eyelashes. I do what I want, when I want, and if that means occasionally using musical instruments as weapons, then that's what the fuck happens."

I jabbed a finger at his chest.

"But if you're serious about getting me those steel guitars, then yeah. Let's fucking do it. I want to learn. Actually learn. And next time someone pisses me off, maybe I'll shred them with sick riffs instead of just their face."

I stepped back, shoving my hands in my pockets, but I was still grinning.

"Fair warning though—I'm probably gonna break at least three more guitars before I figure this shit out. So either get used to rebuilding those fancy puppet components, or teach me fast enough that I stop feeling the need to bash people's heads in."

I paused, then smirked.

"Also, 'pulled to me'? Really? That's the line you're going with? At least the 'perfect' comment had some balls to it."

Kureji rubbed the back of his neck. "Ya know. You're right. I could have done better than that." He hesitated, thinking through, trying to find the right words to use. "For the first time in a long time, someone's been real with me. Not choosing careful words or sugarcoat things. Not only that, but you seem cool and chill. And well.... This is the first time in a long time that I have ever let my own walls down around another person." It was true. No matter how carefree he may seem, or how he always keeps it real with people around them and gives them his honest opinions, there was always a wall between him and them that he was subtly aware of. Not wanting to get too close to anyone for fear of betrayal. It all started when his dad put him in time stasis for years. He never had this problem until then. Even with the Hokage, whom he respected, he hasn't let down his walls around. And now he's kind of just pouring his heart out to this woman.

"I don't expect you to make changes for me or anyone. It's just..." Another hesitation, "This is all new to me. Sure I had women follow me around and want more than autographs, but I never went that far. Even I know that is something like that should be cherished and both people should have mutual feelings for." His face turned red and he could feel it, so he turned away from her. "You say that I am weird for helping you out after bashing my guitar over some guy's head. But you're still here talking to me. Why?"

He would then turn to her after he felt like his face was no longer blushing red. "You want just any type of steel guitar? Just plain or has your favorite color on it or whatever?" His attempt to break the ice or ease any tensions that there might be. He started to walk in the direction of the nearest instrument store. "I'll buy your guitars for you."

I watched him turn away when his face went red, and I felt my eye twitch. Was this idiot seriously getting all flustered NOW? After everything that just happened?

"Why am I still talking to you?"

I repeated his question with a snort, my tone dripping with mockery.

"Because you said you'd teach me guitar, dumbass. What, you think I stuck around for your charming personality?"

I kicked at a stone, watching it skitter into the darkness.

"Don't go getting weird ideas just because I haven't left yet. I need something to do with all this—" I gestured vaguely at myself, "—and smashing things only works for so long before the peacekeepers start getting involved."

I started walking in the direction he was heading, making sure to keep a solid few feet between us.

"And what's with all the 'letting walls down' and 'mutual feelings' garbage? You sound like you swallowed a romance novel. Gross."

I made an exaggerated gagging sound for good measure.

"I'm here because you're the first person who didn't try to give me a lecture about 'appropriate behavior' or ask if I needed to 'talk about my feelings.' You just grabbed me and ran. That's it. Don't make it into some deep emotional moment."

When he asked about guitar preferences, I rolled my eyes hard enough to see the back of my skull.

"Oh great, now you want to know my favorite color? What are you, twelve? Just get whatever's sturdy and won't shatter the first time I hit someone with it."

I shoved my hands into my pockets, shoulders hunched.

"Black. Red. Purple. I don't give a shit. As long as it doesn't look like it belongs to some cutesy pop star."

A beat of silence, then quieter:

"...Dark red would be fine. Like rust or whatever."

I cleared my throat, speeding up to walk a bit ahead of him.

"And I can pay for my own stuff. I'm not some broke loser who needs handouts."

Another pause.

"But if you're buying because you feel guilty about being a weirdo, then whatever. I'll allow it. Consider it compensation for having to listen to your feelings."

I glanced back over my shoulder at him, just for a second, before snapping my attention forward.

"You're lucky you actually delivered on the 'epic' part tonight. Most people are all talk. You at least had the balls to actually run when shit went sideways instead of trying to be the responsible one."

My jaw clenched.

"Everyone else in this village treats me like I'm either a problem to solve or Shin's defective shadow. You just... didn't. So yeah, I guess that's why I'm still here. Happy now?"

I kicked another stone, harder this time.

"But don't get all sappy about it. You're still annoying as hell with all your 'pulled to you' bullshit. Keep that up and I'll bash the next guitar over YOUR head instead."

Despite the threat, I didn't increase the distance between us. If anything, the gap had closed slightly, though I'd punch anyone who pointed it out.

"Just teach me to play and stop looking at me like... whatever the hell that expression is. It's weird. You're weird. This whole night is weird."

I pulled a hand from my pocket to aggressively mess with my hair.

"And stop with the emotional vulnerability crap. I don't know what to do with that. I'm literally designed to punch things, not... process feelings or whatever you're trying to make me do."

"Right..." Kureji would rub the back of his neck, "That was a stupid thing to think of." And just like that, he felt like he was just being a creep. But even with that said, Kohana hasn't left him, giving her reasoning of him saying that he would teach her how to play the guitar. Which, yeah, he did. It makes sense.

On the conversation on her favorite color, at first, she claimed that she didn't care before going on to say that she would like a dark red that would be like rust. Kureji would pipe in, "Everything about making music is to express yourself. From how you play, to even the color of your instruments. Having a plain guitar with no real splash of colors would give the person that is watching you play the impression that you don't really care about music, or even like it. People are weird like that. But having just about any color to your instruments, could help people connect to your music."

He would merely nod as at first she would deny him paying for her guitars but then said that she would let him pay. "Well, how you want me to treat you? Don't want to be like everyone else nor end up sappy or weird in your eyes." He would say cooly. He would recover from his fumble and just treat her how he's been treating her before he was tripping over his words. Though... this night is kinda weird. He feels like she's giving mixed signals and he himself was confused at what to really do. Hell, for now he'll just keep it cool like they're just friends. Is this how it feels to be friend zoned? He pushed the thought out of his head as they headed into a instrument store.

The clerk perched up at having customers this late. There was an array of guitars, some wooden, others steel. Most of them were of different colors, plain, mixed, striped. Some guitars that were signed by some famous people, one of which by Kureji. Though that one was under Kureji's handle name when he cared about people not finding out who he is, Kota. They would easily find the dark red steel guitar among others. It had a polish to it that would shine brilliantly in the light. The neck of the guitar was carefully crafted with its chords strung perfectly. The weight of the guitar would feel perfectly balanced once held to play, fit with a black strap to be able to easily walk around with it.

"Any others that catch your eyes?" Kureji asks Kohana. The clerk would ring up the first guitar and put in into a sleek black guitar case and wait for Kohana in case she wants anymore. Kureji would look at the other instruments that were all around the store and his eyes settled on a grand piano. Not really his forte but he has an insane idea. "Hey clerk dude. I want that piano too."

The clerk raised his eyebrows. "That's good and all but wouldn't that be too big for you all to carry?"

Kureji would slap the necessary yen on the counter and produce a sealing scroll. And in a poof, it was gone. The clerk looked dumbfounded that Kureji would do such a thing. Mainly because he thought that the two people before him were only music enjoyers and not ninja. "It'd be funny to bust a whole piano out to hit someone with." He said with a smile. His plan was to make it into a puppet weapon to really make people confused as he beats them up. Just the thought of it made him giggle to himself.

I walked alongside Kureji toward the instrument store, maintaining that careful distance between us even as the gap seemed to keep shrinking without me noticing. The adrenaline from earlier was finally starting to fade, leaving behind a restless energy that made my fingers twitch.

"You know, for someone who talks about being 'real' and 'keeping it authentic,' you sure got flustered fast back there."

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, smirking.

"What happened to all that rockstar confidence? One second you're talking about freedom and living life to the fullest, next second you're blushing like some academy student who just held hands for the first time."

I kicked at another stone, watching it bounce ahead of us.

"It's pathetic, honestly. If you're gonna say shit like 'pulled to you' and 'perfect the way you are,' at least commit to it. Don't go turning into a tomato and backpedaling the moment I call you out."

But even as I said it, something in my chest felt... lighter. Like maybe being called perfect—even by someone as chaotic as Kureji—wasn't the worst thing in the world. Not that I'd ever fucking admit that out loud.

"And what's with the whole 'letting walls down' speech? You barely know me. For all you know, I could be using you to get free guitars before I disappear and bash more people's heads in."

I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets, shoulders hunching slightly.

"But I guess... I don't know. Most people either treat me like Shin's problem or like I'm some kind of ticking time bomb they need to handle carefully. You just... didn't. You saw me crack someone's skull with your guitar and your first instinct was to grab me and run."

I paused, then added quickly:

"Which was still stupid, by the way. You could've just let me handle it. I can take care of myself."

The streets were quieter now, most people having retreated indoors for the night. The village had an almost peaceful quality to it at this hour, which felt weird after all the chaos earlier.

"So what's your deal anyway? Why are you really here in Suna? And don't give me that 'money, kick ass, talk to my old man' bullshit. There's gotta be more to it than that."

I glanced at him properly this time, actually curious.

"Because from where I'm standing, you're a missing ninja hanging around the village he abandoned, buying guitars for someone you just met for... what, shits and giggles?"

My smirk turned sharper.

"Either you're the dumbest criminal I've ever met, or there's something else going on. And honestly? I can't tell which one it is yet."

We turned a corner and I could see the instrument store ahead, still lit up despite the late hour.

"Also, if you're actually serious about teaching me, you better not half-ass it. I don't do anything halfway, and I sure as hell won't tolerate some mediocre teacher who phones it in."

I stopped walking for a second, turning to face him directly.

"But if you can actually deliver—if you can teach me to play even half as good as you clearly think you are—then maybe... maybe I won't completely hate having you around."

I immediately started walking again before he could respond, my face feeling uncharacteristically warm.

"That doesn't mean I like you or anything. You're still annoying. And weird. And your emotional vulnerability thing makes me want to punch you in the throat."

I pulled one hand from my pocket to point at him accusingly.

"But you're also the first person in this entire fucking village who didn't look at me like I was broken or needed fixing. So I guess... that's worth something."

I dropped my hand and picked up the pace.

"Don't let it go to your head though. The second you start getting boring or preachy, I'm out. And I'm keeping the guitars."

When we finally reached the instrument store, I pushed through the door first, the little bell overhead chiming to announce our entrance. The clerk perked up immediately, clearly surprised to have customers this late.

The place was packed with instruments of every type—guitars hanging on walls, drums in the corner, even some traditional instruments I didn't recognize. But my eyes went straight to the guitars.

"So which one am I breaking first?"

I asked, already moving toward the steel guitars section. My fingers itched to touch them, to test their weight, but I forced myself to keep my hands in my pockets. Couldn't look too eager.

The clerk started to approach and I shot him a look that made him reconsider. Good. I didn't need some sales pitch right now.

"You said two, right? One to learn on and one for 'emergencies.'"

I used air quotes for that last word, smirking at Kureji.

"Though honestly, knowing me, they'll both end up as weapons eventually. Might as well accept that now."

I finally pulled my hands from my pockets and reached for the dark red guitar. The moment my fingers touched it, something clicked. The weight felt right. The balance was perfect. The color reminded me of dried blood, which was morbid as hell but also... fitting.

"This one."

I said it definitively, no room for argument. But then I caught myself actually admiring it and quickly added:

"I mean, it's fine. Better than the others at least. Don't get all sappy thinking I'm excited or whatever."

I held it properly, testing how it felt against my body. My fingers found the strings and I plucked one experimentally. The sound resonated through the store and I felt that same spark from earlier—that sense of doing something that was purely mine.

"Yeah, this'll work. What about the second one?"

I was already scanning the other guitars when Kureji mentioned wanting the piano. I stopped mid-reach and just stared at him.

"You're fucking with me."

But he was serious. He was actually serious about buying an entire grand piano just to seal it and use it as a weapon.

I couldn't help it, I burst out laughing. Not the controlled, measured kind. The genuine, can't-breathe kind that made my ribs hurt.

"You're actually insane. Like, clinically insane. Who the hell thinks 'you know what would be great? Beating someone with a piano'?"

I wiped at my eyes, still laughing.

"You know what? Do it. Buy the stupid piano. At least it'll be fucking hilarious when you actually try to use it."

I grabbed a second guitar, this one slightly lighter, more maneuverable. Better for learning, probably.

"Fine. These two. And apparently a whole ass piano because why the hell not at this point."

I watched as the clerk processed everything, his expression shifting from professional to completely baffled when Kureji sealed the piano into a scroll.

"You're lucky you're entertaining, rockstar. Otherwise I'd think you were just completely useless."

I accepted the guitar case, slinging it over my shoulder with more care than I meant to show.

"So when do we start? Because if I'm hauling these things around, I better actually learn to use them."

I looked at him directly, challenge written all over my face.

"Think you can handle that? Or are you gonna get all flustered again the moment I actually pay attention to what you're teaching?"

"I have been keeping it real with ya." Kureji would say plainly. "Was truthful and meant every word of it. But if you ain't interested, I ain't one to force ya. As for authentic. By how you make it out to be, sounds like you've been on your own with nobody to tell it to you straight for a long time. Even if I tripped over my words, I won't lie to you. Back then, I probably would have. But now I see no reason to lie. Thought I might find myself in trouble cuz of my mouth." He would scoff at his own comment.

Fast forward to inside the shop, Kureji would smile at Kohana's comment about him buying a piano to use as a weapon. "Can you imagine their faces when they see me summon a piano and then proceed to attach chakra strings to it to smash it down on them." He then started to imitate a voice, "Hey, where'd you get that piano?"

The clerk, who was watching this exchange take place must be a little bit horrified. "Eh don't worry gramps. I'll only be using these weapons on bad guys. Or if anyone wants to spar me." He would laugh at the thought of a casual spar with someone and he throws a piano at them.

He looked at Kohana who had settled on two guitars. "We did talk about two, but I think I remember that you thought about maybe a third in case you break those two. But if you are planning on also using them as weapons, then it might be a good idea to get some materials to reinforce the entirety of the guitars. Just so they don't break in one hit." Regular tools that aren't made for fighting, even if it is made out of metal, could be as effective as tissue paper if tried to use as a weapon without properly reinforcing it at first. Honestly, Kureji was actually surprised that Kohana did a number on his guitar. Though that was made as a puppet weapon, for long range combat rather than close range.

After they left, Kureji spoke, he did it so that they were out of earshot of the clerk, "Why am I back in Suna? Heh... I guess that's a hard question to really answer." He would scoff at himself, "I wasn't lying about going to see my old man or here for jobs. Though there was one other thing." His fists clenched at the thought. "My dad put me into a time stasis. I was originally working with him to cause trouble with the other nations. But after I met a guy from the Myakashi clan, my plans changed. I wanted to change the world in my own way. Those ideals strengthened upon meeting my mates who have been hurt by their Village, used by their Village. We wanted to change the world, give a place for misfits like us. My father didn't like that I thought the Myakashi clan were a threat, so he put me in a time stasis."

He cracked his knuckles as he thought about it. "After I broke out of the time stasis, I was all alone. Assuming my mates went their own ways for their own lives." He realized that he was going in a deep dive into his history, something he hasn't done in a while, "I did what I've done when I was with em. Just make music, do some raves, and party. Outside of that, I would travel the world, finding people, ninja who are different from the ones that usually would kill people like me on site."

Kureji would sigh, "I ain't looking to start fights with the whole world. Just tryna change it. Being widely known on a global scale as a rock ans roller surely helps. Though I was doing that before I have had these big aspirations."

I shifted the guitar case on my shoulder, the weight of it still foreign but not unwelcome. The second guitar hung in my other hand, and I found myself gripping it a little tighter as Kureji started talking about his past.

Time stasis. His dad. Being alone.

Fuck.

I kept my eyes forward, watching the empty streets stretch out before us, but I was listening. Actually listening, which was weird because usually when people started dumping their life stories I wanted to punch them in the throat just to make them shut up.

But this was different. He wasn't asking for pity or trying to make me feel bad for him. He was just... answering my question. Being real, like he said.

"Your dad sounds like a real piece of shit," I said bluntly, because what else was there to say? "Time stasis? That's fucked up even by missing ninja standards."

I kicked at another stone, watching it skitter into the darkness.

"And your mates just... left? Didn't even try to find you or break you out?"

The question came out harsher than I meant it to, but I couldn't help it. The idea of being trapped, frozen, while everyone you gave a shit about moved on with their lives... that was its own kind of hell, one I could relate to; sure it was fucking different than being stuck in someone else's head, but hell nonetheless.

"So what, you're back here trying to reconnect with dear old dad who locked you in a fucking time prison? That's your big plan? To what exactly? You going to get revenge or try to mend that relationship? You know what I would do..."

I finally looked at him properly, studying his face in the dim light.

"Or is this about those ideals you mentioned? Changing the world, giving misfits a place to belong?"

My grip on the guitar loosened slightly.

"Because if it's the second one, I get it. More than you probably think I do."

I turned my attention back to the street ahead, shoulders hunching slightly.

"Shin spent his whole life trying to fit into what the village wanted him to be. The perfect puppet master, which he failed at because of me. The responsible Kazekage, which he failed at because of me. Always putting everyone else first, always sacrificing what he wanted for the 'greater good.'"

My jaw clenched.

"And where did that get him? Burned out, exhausted, carrying the weight of an entire fucking village on his shoulders while I screamed in the background about how much I hated all of it. And in the end..."

I stopped walking, forcing myself to actually process what I was about to say.

"Maybe that's why I smashed that guy's head in tonight. Not because he did anything to me specifically, but because I could. Because for once, I got to make a choice that was completely mine, without worrying about what it meant for Shin's reputation or the village's stability or any of that bullshit."

I started walking again, faster this time.

"So yeah, I get wanting to change things. Wanting to give people who don't fit the mold a place to exist without having to pretend to be something they're not."

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye.

"But you're still an idiot for coming back here. Suna doesn't exactly have a great track record with missing ninja who decide to waltz back in like nothing happened."

A pause, then quieter:

"Though I guess if anyone's gonna pull it off, it'd be the guy crazy enough to buy a grand piano as a weapon."

The guitars felt heavier now, weighted with more than just steel and strings. They felt like possibility. Like maybe I could actually figure out who the fuck I was supposed to be now that I wasn't just the monster in Shin's head.

"I mean if Akkuma can go from a wanted criminal to a Sennin because of the alliances and pacts he made with Shin, then why the fuck can't you? But it would probably be easier on you if you did what that creepy fuck did and accept the position as a Sunan Shinobi. Migoya, Kiko, Tama... All mercenaries or rogue shinobi who have at one point made a deal with Shin, but none of them accepted his offer to become a Shinobi for Sunagakure and I haven't heard from them in a while, I don't even know if they are still alive. I am pretty sure all of the great villages are head hunting them, but Medical Chief Miroku Akkuma got that diplomatic immunity once he accepted the headband, now those like Silence of the Cloud's ANBU had to back off from pursuing his captivity less the Raikage wanted to start a war with Sunagakure..."

I shot him a slightly concerned look.

"I want you to achieve your dumb goals and what not, but they won't be worth it if you end up fucking decapitated because the Tsuchikage thought you were a little sharp during a concert about toppling the oligarchy."