Shinbatsu kicked the soggy books to the side. The book keepers were shaking in their shoes, eying him and hoping he would not cause any more damage. He frowned at them. They were his competitors, so he was naturally heartless in this situation; but in all honesty, he could not find anything wrong with the place. Why had he been sent here? He would have been content to burn the place down and say that the evidence of his findings had been destroyed, but they all lived in a huge cave and he did not want to asphyxiate eighty thousand people to death. Instead, he drowned everything, but it was making it more difficult for him to find any real evidence.
Why was he here anyway? He figured it was best if he tried to find out, so he asked the book keepers. No reason was their obvious response. He kicked down a bookshelf, and all the books on the shelves joined the others in the pool of water. Still no useful responses. He figured things might change with some physical pain, but they did not. His mind felt congested. He did not have any ideas. This was all one horrible dream...
Later that night, Shinbatsu sat alone in his house thinking about the matter. Things got ugly later; he was attacked by the perpetrators as he almost accidentally wandered into the secret room he had been sent there to find. All in all, he broke seven arms, two legs, and cracked one skull. He put five people behind bars and established possible connections between them and thirty others. He stole seven shelves' worth of books and added them to his establishment. His eyes closed. He was a doctor. A doctor! How had things gotten this crazy?
Somewhere in the back of his mind, gears started turning. He understood it all. This was all a part of his frustration and anger, a part of the emotional neglect he had experienced at the hands of his parents when they were younger. Till this day they could not understand; they provided him with everything, so how could they have possibly neglected him? The two simply did not add up, and unless they had been to a formal medical institution and had learned about it and had had it explained to them, Shinbatsu understood that they could never understand. That is why they sent him to the medical establishment: so he would come to understand. And he did. He sympathized with the criminals. He sympathized with himself. They were all products of their environments and their genetics. But that didn't mean it was fair.
At length, the man opened his eyes, rose from his chair, and moved over to his treasury box. All these years and it was only half full. He could not keep up anymore. Work exhausted him. Shinobi life exhausted him. And by the looks of it, he was not due for a break in a long time. With one hand on the box, he closed his eyes. One day things would be different... One day.
MFT
Why was he here anyway? He figured it was best if he tried to find out, so he asked the book keepers. No reason was their obvious response. He kicked down a bookshelf, and all the books on the shelves joined the others in the pool of water. Still no useful responses. He figured things might change with some physical pain, but they did not. His mind felt congested. He did not have any ideas. This was all one horrible dream...
Later that night, Shinbatsu sat alone in his house thinking about the matter. Things got ugly later; he was attacked by the perpetrators as he almost accidentally wandered into the secret room he had been sent there to find. All in all, he broke seven arms, two legs, and cracked one skull. He put five people behind bars and established possible connections between them and thirty others. He stole seven shelves' worth of books and added them to his establishment. His eyes closed. He was a doctor. A doctor! How had things gotten this crazy?
Somewhere in the back of his mind, gears started turning. He understood it all. This was all a part of his frustration and anger, a part of the emotional neglect he had experienced at the hands of his parents when they were younger. Till this day they could not understand; they provided him with everything, so how could they have possibly neglected him? The two simply did not add up, and unless they had been to a formal medical institution and had learned about it and had had it explained to them, Shinbatsu understood that they could never understand. That is why they sent him to the medical establishment: so he would come to understand. And he did. He sympathized with the criminals. He sympathized with himself. They were all products of their environments and their genetics. But that didn't mean it was fair.
At length, the man opened his eyes, rose from his chair, and moved over to his treasury box. All these years and it was only half full. He could not keep up anymore. Work exhausted him. Shinobi life exhausted him. And by the looks of it, he was not due for a break in a long time. With one hand on the box, he closed his eyes. One day things would be different... One day.
MFT