Private Ah one off [Private]

[Akira Kazan]

Today Kazan found himself stationed at the Dragon tooth pass alongside other, faceless, Shinobi of the Hidden Cloud. While it normally wasn't his job to be here, he felt like it was time he tried to help out his fellow Sennin and lend a hand to the village's Anbu force. "Over time." He thought, as he sat in a chair off to the side of the main gates. His eyes would jump from one individual to the next, watching as members of the village's police force assisted in gate duty. Kazan really didn't need to be here, but there was nothing else on his plate for the day. The Main Branch, being the largest in the village, had a quite honestly been set up for success by some of his predecessors. After wasting a few hours of time, sitting around and chatting with some of the personnel, Kazan finally had enough of it all. Standing up, and grabbing his chair and whistled at some of the guards on duty. "Keep up the good work. If there's an emergency, radio me. I'm to the entertainment district for bite to eat." He shouted, with a brief wave before heading back into the depths of the village. With each step, his classic cape fluttered in the wind behind him.

"Should I go for Barbeque or ramen?" He asked himself, wondering what would be more filling for him. He didn't do much today, other than sit around and just stare at the gates with some members of his branch. It's not like he worked up a huge appetite. "Ramen." He decided to himself, as he continued on.

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[Orochi Sakura]

“Is this what they pay the main branch Sennin to do these days?”

The words slipped from my mouth without haste or warmth, as if they’d been exhumed rather than spoken. I didn’t need to raise my voice; it carried on its own, quiet but incisive, the kind of tone that makes people straighten their posture without knowing why. The atmosphere shifted on instinct, the way small animals go still when they sense a predator—not out of threat, but inevitability. Wherever I go, a certain heaviness follows, like an overcast sky that refuses to burn off. I’ve been told it’s unsettling. I consider it a compliment.

My presence cast a thin veil of shadow — not supernatural, unfortunately, merely a metaphor of existing the way I do. The blunt bangs curtaining my eyes absorbed the light rather than reflecting it, allowing my stare to remain perfectly unannounced yet unmistakably felt. I wasn’t trying to intimidate anyone. That would imply effort. I simply allowed myself to stand there, and the world adjusted.

Arms folded, posture rigid, I waited long enough to ensure the Sennin understood that I was not here for idle conversation. Watching someone try to appear productive is much like observing a moth fling itself at a lantern: predictable, tragic, and strangely noble in its futility.

“I can see that you’re busy,” I said, my voice a steady blade of sarcasm wrapped in velvet. “But I require your assistance.”

There was no apology threaded through my words. I don’t offer those freely; they are like ghosts—rare, unnecessary, and better left to haunt someone else. My request was not a plea. It was a statement of fact, the kind that expects compliance simply because the alternative would be… inconvenient.

I let silence stretch between us, an elegant noose tightening at its leisure. I am patient, but not generous. If they hesitated, they would feel the weight of my gaze like a slow-turning lock in a dark corridor. Assistance would be given. One way or another.

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