Open Artistry materials

[Rakujo Reika]

The first place the black haired woman headed towards after being let into the village was the commercial district with the box full of good quality clay and unique pigments from all over the place. She hoped that she would find a merchant willing to trade for at least something that she had. Not that it was a dire need but she just wanted to try and obtain something from the area and the village was her best option for it.

Reika, wearing black shorts and a white long-sleeved shirt, walked through the district as her ponytail swayed with each step would eventually stop, setting the box down to take another sip from the bottle of water she had been given at the gate. She didn't terribly want to spend too much time here but it would be nice to rest after going through the desert in the pace that she did. She'd lean against a nearby wall, after bringing the box with her, for a moments rest. She'd look around, noticing some of the people passing by glance over at her and give a look. She'd seen the look before, though it didn't much effect her. The man at the gate said there were recent events that had happened so she would brush it off as she took some time to rest.

 

[Kyuji]

It was another day since my freedom from those walls of the Byakko Clan and back to living a somewhat normal life considering everything that had changed since then. A lot had changed actually since my incident and I was still getting accustomed to these changes even though many of them were giving me little to no time to do so. At least so far today, it was relatively quiet and peaceful as I was taking a stroll through the Commerical District and seeing many familiar faces from vendors and villagers that would smile or wave as they passed by me. Everyone seemed so content and relaxed even though there were many actions and plans being implemented as I took my stroll that were decided upon by the council of clan leaders the other day. It was better this way for now however as we needed to have everything set in place and ready to execute when it was time before declaring anything to the public and possibly having it backfire on us - there could even be spies in the village right now for our targets that would sabotage everything abruptly.

As I continued my stroll, I would notice a woman slightly taller than me leaning against a wall likely taking a break as many people were looking at her. She definitely did not look like someone that you would commonly see in the village - she actually had characteristics similar to my least favorite person that I had the pleasure of meeting: Miroku Akkuma. It was her black hair and red eyes that were the similarities to him along with being taller than me, but I was not exactly a tall person ever in my life. However while she looked similar, that did not mean that she was an evil, psychotic demon that wanted to ruin shinobi in our village including me. At the very least, I would check on her and make sure she was okay since she did not look like she was used to our home.

With a simple wave and a smile, I would approach her and say "Hello! Are you doing okay over there? Do you need anything?"

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OOC:

• MFT: 365 Words

 

[Rakujo Reika]

As she took her time resting against the wall, a few things came to mind but keeping an eye on the people who glanced at her in ways she was all too used to. With the aforementioned happenings at the gate, she couldn't fault them for being weary. Reika didn't quite expect anyone to approach her as the rest were more standoffish than she had expected, and she wasn't really expecting much. She remained where she was, one shoulder resting against the wall, posture relaxed but alert.

When the stranger waved and approached, Reika’s red eyes shifted to meet them, studying the smile, the tone, the way they carried themselves. No immediate threat. Just concern. She straightened slightly, pushing off the wall, her expression neutral but not unfriendly.

“I’m fine,” Reika replied calmly, her voice even and unhurried. “Just taking a moment to breathe and get my bearings.” Her gaze flicked briefly toward the surrounding district before returning. “This village has a rhythm of its own. Takes a little time to learn.”

A faint, polite smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “But thank you for checking. Not everyone bothers.” She let the silence sit naturally after that, clearly open to conversation, but not pressing for it. Though, the more she observed the stranger the more something felt almost familiar to her but she had absolutely no clue where it was coming from. She knew she never met the woman before, nor had she been within Sunagakure. This would have to bug her at a different time and place.

 

[Kyuji]

As I approached, I would notice her posture change slightly and she didn't seem to be showing any signs of immediate need or concern. She wasn't raising any concerns for me and she seemed to be a mere visitor to our village - nothing truly out of the ordinary. Yes, her appearance was similar to an individual that caused me many headaches and some heartaches, but judging someone on their appearance alone was not something that I was much concerned about. Appearances were simply that, appearances. It was how the individual acted towards the village and I that ultimately was my concern. I would notice a smile from her and returned it as I listened to her speak.

Nodding, I would give her a response in tow. I was friendly in tone and trying to allow her to feel more at ease, if she was feeling any uncertainty: "I understand where you are coming from honestly. I remember when I first visited the village and it was honestly overwhelming to me, but as you stay, you will grow accustomed to the hustle and bustle of our village. We have been through a lot over the years and it always seems like something new is testing us as individuals and as a village. But, I wouldn't change it as it keeps things interesting!"

I would allow a moment between us to pass, noticing the box at her feet, before I continued speaking to her: "You are welcomed! I try to make everyone feel welcomed to our village regardless of their backgrounds or where they come from. As long as you do not cause harm to our village, then we will have no issues. But, I am curious about what is in the box at your feet. Can I have a look?" A simple request that could be responded in numerous ways - I trusted her and the context of her box, but it was still better to be safe than sorry if she was carrying anything could be a cause for concern like poisons, drugs, or explosives.

 

[Rakujo Reika]

She stretched slightly as she listened to the blonde woman tell her about when she first visited the village, and that the longer one stays the more accustomed one becomes to the hustle and bustle. Apparently they'd been through a lot over the years. "I appreciate it, I don't to be here long enough to fully get accustomed to it though. Work takes me everywhere and this is mostly for me." She'd say, her voice staying calm and even.

After a moment, the woman spoke again, mentioning that she tries to make everyone feel welcome to the village regardless of backgrounds as long as they don't cause harm to the village. She understood it more than the woman knew. The woman then showed curiosity about the box she had in tow with her. "Yeah, as a show of good faith, I have no issues opening it." She'd say, crouching down and opening up the box to show some quality clay that was bagged to keep it safe, some pigments of varying colors each individually sealed. Reds, blues, yellows, and many other colors she had gotten through her travels that she had enough extra of.

"Just trying to find somewhere I can trade these for other materials that either come from here or can't be found anymore that somewhere might still have supply of." Reika would mention as another show of good faith to the woman.

 

[Kyuji]

She would actually open her box with no arguing or questioning of my motives. It could have been a trick on her part, but she left me look at the context of it which was bagged clay of various colors and some shapes from what I could see. From what I could gather, she was likely an artist in some form based on her abundance of the product or she was a hobbyist. Her comment about trying to find a place to trade it for other materials would also bring that assumption of mine closer to actuality at least in my mind. While she could have been a threat with an undisclosed box, she was likely flagged down at the entrance to our village and had herself patted down and anything that she brought in - at least, that is what I assumed someone would had done as that is what I did. Either way, she was here and she was no being threatening nor carrying anything overly concerning.

I would look back at her after looking down to examine her box as she opened it and smile at her again. "Very pretty and I wish I could point you in the direction to trade or sell it. Unfortunately, that is not in my expertise but if I may ask, do you work with it as an artist and sell products? Or is it more of a hobby that you indulge in?" Fair question in my mind as I was curious and it was allowing her to say as much as she wanted to. As I stood there, I realized something that I should had done earlier in our conversation before getting too involved. "Byakko Kyuji, but you can call me Kyuji. Some would want to put honorifics to my name due to my age, position in the village, and so forth. It is not necessary for me as I am like everyone else in the village - doing my best to help the village thrive and doing the best I can do for myself."

I would then allow the black-haired woman a chance to respond as she saw fit. Hopefully, I could at least get a name to put to a face at a minimum. If not, it wasn't the end of the world however.

 

[Rakujo Reika]

Reika watched her examine the contents of the box without hovering, hands resting loosely at her sides as the lid was held open. She didn’t rush to explain or correct, just observed the way Kyuji’s eyes moved, what lingered, what passed over quickly. When the box was closed again and that smile returned, Reika answered it with a faint one of her own, restrained but sincere.

“A bit of both,” she said calmly. “I work with it as an artist first. Trading or selling just keeps me supplied and moving.” She reached out to settle the lid fully, fingers careful, practiced. “Raw clay travels better than finished pieces. And people tend to see possibility in it, rather than deciding what it should be right away.”

At the question of whether it was profession or indulgence, Reika tilted her head slightly, considering. “Some of it becomes sculpture. Some of it’s temporary work—forms meant to exist briefly, then be broken down or reclaimed. I don’t mind either. I care more about the intent behind it than how long it lasts.”

When Kyuji introduced herself, Reika inclined her head in acknowledgment, the gesture measured but respectful. “Kyuji,” she repeated, letting the name settle naturally. “I appreciate that approach. Titles tend to complicate conversations more than they help.” There was no hesitation when she offered her own name. “Rakujo Reika.” Nothing added to it. Nothing taken away.

“I’m passing through for now,” she continued, glancing briefly toward the surrounding district before returning her attention to Kyuji. “If I find the right materials or the right exchange, I’ll stay a little longer. If not, I move on. Either way, I try to leave places as I found them. Or at least without causing harm.” Her red eyes met Kyuji’s again, steady and unguarded, curiosity tempered by experience rather than suspicion. “It’s good to meet you,” Reika finished.

 

[Kyuji]

I take a moment to truly regard Reika as she explains herself — not just her words, but the intent behind them. There’s a careful honesty in how she presents her craft, one that doesn’t lean on exaggeration or self-importance. She speaks of her materials not as merchandise, but as potential, as things waiting to become something more. That alone tells me a great deal about the kind of artist she is. Anyone can trade. Anyone can sell. But it takes a different sort of person to value the raw state of creation as much as the finished form.

Her mention of sculpting — of art that may or may not be permanent — strikes a chord with me. In a world where shinobi are trained to leave marks through strength or destruction, there’s something quietly powerful about someone who creates knowing their work might one day disappear. That kind of impermanence requires confidence. It says that the act of creation itself matters more than recognition or longevity. I respect that.

As she explains that trading is simply what allows her to continue traveling and creating, I find no trace of desperation or opportunism in her words. There’s no sense that she’s here to exploit Sunagakure or its people. Instead, she feels like someone passing through respectfully, willing to exchange value rather than take it. That distinction matters. This village has seen its share of wanderers who arrive with empty promises or hidden motives. Reika doesn’t carry herself like that. She carries herself like someone who knows who she is, even if she doesn’t yet know where she’ll end up.

I also can’t help but notice how observant she is. The way she speaks about the village — its noise, its movement, its atmosphere — tells me she’s already begun to listen rather than judge. Many outsiders mistake Sunagakure’s constant motion for chaos. But those who look closer begin to see its rhythm, its balance. Reika seems to be on that path already, even if she doesn’t realize it yet. That awareness will serve her well here.

There’s a humility in how she introduces herself, too. She doesn’t oversell her reputation or inflate her skills. She simply states who she is and what she does, trusting that her work will speak for itself. That kind of quiet confidence is rare, and it leaves a stronger impression than any boast ever could. It tells me she’s not here seeking validation — she’s here seeking opportunity, experience, and growth.

As someone who has lived and trained in this village for a long time, I find myself appreciating her presence more than I expected. Artists like Reika add something intangible to a place like Sunagakure. They remind us that strength isn’t only forged through combat or discipline, but through expression, patience, and imagination. Her craft may not look like ours at first glance, but it carries its own form of resilience.

I don’t see her as a stranger anymore — not entirely. I see her as a traveler standing at the edge of a new chapter, taking careful steps forward rather than rushing in blindly. And while she may only be here in search of materials, I get the sense that Sunagakure may offer her more than she expects. Not just pigments or clay, but perspective. Connection. Inspiration.

For my part, I’m content simply having crossed paths with her. The village is always changing, shaped by the people who pass through it as much as those who remain. If Reika leaves even a small impression here — a piece of art, a memory, a moment — then her presence will have mattered. And judging by the way she speaks about her craft, I suspect that whatever she creates next will carry a piece of this place with it, whether she intends it to or not.

A simple response to her: "Rakujo Reika. Nice to meet you as well." I would then turn my attention from her momentarily to survey the area around us - it was bustling as normal and people were going about their days as normal. They had not a worry in the world about what would be happening likely in a few short days with the assault of the Baron Twins on us. Byakko help us if we failed. I would turn my attention back to her and said: "Do you have any free time to spare or are you on a strict schedule of trading, selling and then moving onto the next place?"

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OOC:

• MFT: 750 Words+

 

[Rakujo Reika]

Reika lets the bustle of the street fill the brief silence after the question, vendors calling out, footsteps over stone, the low hum of a village that never truly rests. She watches a pair of children dart past before her attention settles back on Kyuji, red eyes steady and thoughtful. “I don’t keep myself on a leash.” she says at last, her voice even, unforced. “If I did, traveling wouldn’t mean much. Schedules are useful, but only until they start deciding for you.”

She adjusts the strap of her pack, fingers brushing faintly clay-stained fabric, an unconscious habit. “I came here to trade, yes. That part’s simple. But I don’t rush good conversations, and I don’t ignore curiosity when it shows up politely, especially not in a place I haven’t learned yet.” Her gaze lingers on Kyuji a heartbeat longer, reading tone rather than rank, intent rather than title. There’s no tension there, just quiet appraisal. “So if you’re asking whether I have time.” Reika continues, a faint edge of dry humor touching her words. “I do.” She tilts her head slightly. “I’m just curious what you had in mind that made you ask.”