Jinzo was really good at paying close attention to detail, like, exceptionally good at it. And while it wasn't as though he was one to brag about his ability to notice the intricate details in things from afar, it was a skill that was quite quickly making a name for itself for him. Whether it was helping Keni out with some glove that apparently gave him an even bigger burst in power or simply helping other Genin to repair their assorted weapons, Jinzo never seemed to have plenty of business in helping people out. All of that being the case, for all the help that he gave to others, he could never really help himself to achieve the same sort of results. Whereas Keni was made to punch things harder, and Sara something-or-another was able to turn her already ridiculous vision into something obscene, all of the people that Jinzo seemed to help all had an innate talent that he lacked, namely, access to ancient shinobi bloodlines. Seemingly born as he was, ordinary, Jinzo was neither an Uchiha, or a Hyuuga, or from any of the other plethora clans that called Konoha home. As an orphan taking care of orphans, his options of finding parents to adopt the whole lot of them, were slim, but nothing was as slim as the fact that even with an adoption, that he'd still not be like whoever it was that adopted them. And so he thought.
One to love cooking and the arts, Jinzo did his best thinking when he was in the kitchen environment and giving himself over to the ability to make the sort of fantastical dishes that many had also come to love. As he started to cook, he set out to make a simple yet always effective stir fry. Having all the ingredients ready at his fingertips he was excited to get cooking. Time tested as always, Jinzo pulled out his favorite cooking wok. Aged and showing plenty of signs of wear and tear from his many cooking experiences, there was simply something to be said for being able to do all that he needed with one tool. Letting his hands dance over the other tools that he'd need, when he had prepared those, he finally got about to preparing his ingredients. Beef, pork or chicken... the options were always there. Taking full advantage of being a shinobi of Konoha, Jinzo found that many of his thinking sessions were thoroughly enhanced by the fact that he didn't have to worry about the refrigerator running out of food while on Academy grounds. Having finally set everything up just as he needed, he turned the eye of the burner top on and set the wok on top to heat up. When the wok finally got to a high enough heat, he added a small amount of oil, and then he added the aromatics, such as ginger and garlic. Cooking them for a few minutes, until they were fragrant, his mind started to drift as he went through the motions.
Sighing, he shook his head and once again lamented the fact that he was without a special talent. Was cooking a talent that was useful in the shinobi line of work? Perhaps that went under healing and medical jutsu? While Jinzo had taken a class or two, he certainly wasn't anything proficient in healing his friends. Remembering that he was still cooking,, he added the meat next, which he had already sliced into thin strips. Cooking the meat for a few minutes, until it was browned, he then added the vegetables, which he cooked until they were tender-crisp. It was a shame that he couldn't just artificially make up a bloodline like he could a dish or even recreate one like he could a used weapon. Finally adding the sauce, he cooked the stir fry for a few more minutes until the sauce was heated through. Or could he? Finally serving the stir fry over rice. He took a bite, and though he was immediately impressed, his mind was off on another tangent about just what he could do.
If he remembered correctly, Keni's gloves were intricately designed, but still something that he could replicate with the right tools. Setting his chopsticks down, he went to rummage through his backpack for his notebook and flipped though until he found the page detailing the day. His notes providing more detail than most people typically needed, as he walked back to his food, his ever faithful wok caught his eye. Keni's gloves, his wok. The answer had apparently always been right there. Why couldn't Jinzo turn his wok into a weapon itself? "Probably because the thing is too clunky..." Answering his own question out loud, he continued to ponder over the conundrum. Even with an enhanced wok, it would at best, hit harder and maybe have a razer sharp edge. Nothing was overly intimidating between that and the likes of the Inuzuka or Aburame. True, most of their prowess came from the fact that they had familiars, but their level of control and proficiency was something that was honed over generations. Jinzo would never get that.
Carefully eyeing the notes, Jinzo took another bite of his food and pondered over things some more. The glove, Keni had wanted to use it as a weapon and indeed he had, but it appeared as though his extra power came from the weapon itself. "Just be the weapon..." Shaking his head, Jinzo made the flippant remark out loud but no sooner had he said the words then the simplistic nature of their truthfulness hit home. Be the weapon. The answer so simple yet the ramifications of it more than extreme. As Jinzo thought about being a weapon, he didn't think about honing his skill by hitting the gym more or racing around a field growing his stamina, he thought about legitimately augmenting his body in the same way that he did anything else, be it a dish or a discarded glove. Unsure if his thoughts were heretical or not, Jinzo quickly finished his food, cleaned the Academy kitchen and rushed home to truly finish his thoughts.
When he had at last gotten home, he rushed past his siblings, barely bothering to say a greeting and nearly ran to his room where he quickly closed and locked his door. Having had more time to think about the idea, he went to his work bench and began to sketch out his thoughts. He could, no, he should start small. If he started too big then it would be too obvious that he was going down an obviously murky path. Jinzo was proficient in puppet taijutsu and on occasion he would use the tricks that he learned to entertain his siblings, but this would be an advanced level of even that. He would in effect be turning himself into the very thing that many children played with for fun. Working on the design process even further, by the time that Jinzo had managed to finish the first version of his proposed new form, the sunlight from a new day had caught up to the candlelight that was still burning in his room.
As the continued hours turned into days and the even those dragged on, Jinzo only made appearances in order to keep up appearances but his mind was usually far away, mentally working on his grand project while physically we went about his normal shinobi duties. Visiting every scrapyard that he could, and even managing to fake enough interest in a medical-nin class to procure the necessary medical supplies that he'd need, continue working on his creation. Needing to make proxies for all sorts of internal and external systems, though he considered himself an artist, the science would need to be greater than even his rudimentary vision. Unceremoniously, the first cut, was the hardest, it hurt, but it then it didn't, and as the lies started to add up, so too did the many modifications that he made to his body. With no one to guide him, and certainly without the ability to speak up of his own downward spiral into the maddening, Jinzo during more than one occasion had to resort to getting help from seedy shinobi who were also on their own trek through the arcane.
There were a number of times when his siblings wondered about his mental state, and wondered if he was pushing himself too hard to provide, but he brushed off their concerns and continued to surround himself with underground scientifically inclined ne'er-do-well's who were willing to go through great lengths for their own causes. Rubbing shoulders with such like minded people certainly reinforced Jinzo's belief that for people like him, augmentation and modification could overcome any blood locked obstacle, and sure enough, when at last his vision had come to reality, the last step was easier than he would have imagined. Some people were born special, Jinzo wasn't. Having walked into a dimly lit room in a far underground location than where he ever intended to be, Jinzo's only companions were the two already modified shinobi who were willing to help him and the new body that he was hoping to inhabit soon enough. "You sure about this?" The gruff voice of one of the shinobi was all that Jinzo could identify.
Having assumed that they all were shinobi, the fact that none of them ever exchanged real names helped to protect them from anybody blowing the cover on the operation but the mans question caused Jinzo to falter for the briefest of moments. Was he ready? From this point on, there was no point of return. Taking this next step would indeed free him from the ordinary body that he was born with, but even that liberation would leave him a prisoner in a shell of his own design. Was he confident in his technical prowess? Had he checked ever box on the checklist? Could he be certain that all of what he had amassed could legitimately not only protect him but allow him to be just as strong, if not stronger than those with a more natural talent? What would others think when they found out that he cheated his way beyond the genetic lottery pool? All those questions and more bubbled up and questioned his resolve. There were those that were born special and people like him who had to make themselves special.
Jinzo would have to be the hero of his own story and climb his own way up the ladder to keep up with the likes of his peers. In many respects, Jinzo would trade one set of puppet strings for another, only this time, he'd be the puppet master. While there would be artificial parts, some of the parts of him would still be him, some would taken from the scraps of other projects, and some would be wholly new inventions of his own design. All of that power and all those abilities were there in the soon to be living and breathing tomb that was the artificial body on the table. With just the transferring of his mind, via a complicated system of backups that he still only barely partially understood. Was he sure about it? "Yes." His answer though clear and succinct, could do little belie the faith that he had to have in technology to keep him alive. A long way from his dreams of simply being a chef or an artist, Jinzo walked towards the operating table and laid down. He had gone over the schematics, gone over the steps and understood enough about the operation to know that they were risk, but he was willing to risk it all at the hands of two nameless dark avengers that he considered to be kindred spirits. When the surgical mask slid over his face and he began to count backwards, the last thought in his mind and the strongest pull for him to wake up was the thought of restarting his story with a better body, unbound from its original creation.
One to love cooking and the arts, Jinzo did his best thinking when he was in the kitchen environment and giving himself over to the ability to make the sort of fantastical dishes that many had also come to love. As he started to cook, he set out to make a simple yet always effective stir fry. Having all the ingredients ready at his fingertips he was excited to get cooking. Time tested as always, Jinzo pulled out his favorite cooking wok. Aged and showing plenty of signs of wear and tear from his many cooking experiences, there was simply something to be said for being able to do all that he needed with one tool. Letting his hands dance over the other tools that he'd need, when he had prepared those, he finally got about to preparing his ingredients. Beef, pork or chicken... the options were always there. Taking full advantage of being a shinobi of Konoha, Jinzo found that many of his thinking sessions were thoroughly enhanced by the fact that he didn't have to worry about the refrigerator running out of food while on Academy grounds. Having finally set everything up just as he needed, he turned the eye of the burner top on and set the wok on top to heat up. When the wok finally got to a high enough heat, he added a small amount of oil, and then he added the aromatics, such as ginger and garlic. Cooking them for a few minutes, until they were fragrant, his mind started to drift as he went through the motions.
Sighing, he shook his head and once again lamented the fact that he was without a special talent. Was cooking a talent that was useful in the shinobi line of work? Perhaps that went under healing and medical jutsu? While Jinzo had taken a class or two, he certainly wasn't anything proficient in healing his friends. Remembering that he was still cooking,, he added the meat next, which he had already sliced into thin strips. Cooking the meat for a few minutes, until it was browned, he then added the vegetables, which he cooked until they were tender-crisp. It was a shame that he couldn't just artificially make up a bloodline like he could a dish or even recreate one like he could a used weapon. Finally adding the sauce, he cooked the stir fry for a few more minutes until the sauce was heated through. Or could he? Finally serving the stir fry over rice. He took a bite, and though he was immediately impressed, his mind was off on another tangent about just what he could do.
If he remembered correctly, Keni's gloves were intricately designed, but still something that he could replicate with the right tools. Setting his chopsticks down, he went to rummage through his backpack for his notebook and flipped though until he found the page detailing the day. His notes providing more detail than most people typically needed, as he walked back to his food, his ever faithful wok caught his eye. Keni's gloves, his wok. The answer had apparently always been right there. Why couldn't Jinzo turn his wok into a weapon itself? "Probably because the thing is too clunky..." Answering his own question out loud, he continued to ponder over the conundrum. Even with an enhanced wok, it would at best, hit harder and maybe have a razer sharp edge. Nothing was overly intimidating between that and the likes of the Inuzuka or Aburame. True, most of their prowess came from the fact that they had familiars, but their level of control and proficiency was something that was honed over generations. Jinzo would never get that.
Carefully eyeing the notes, Jinzo took another bite of his food and pondered over things some more. The glove, Keni had wanted to use it as a weapon and indeed he had, but it appeared as though his extra power came from the weapon itself. "Just be the weapon..." Shaking his head, Jinzo made the flippant remark out loud but no sooner had he said the words then the simplistic nature of their truthfulness hit home. Be the weapon. The answer so simple yet the ramifications of it more than extreme. As Jinzo thought about being a weapon, he didn't think about honing his skill by hitting the gym more or racing around a field growing his stamina, he thought about legitimately augmenting his body in the same way that he did anything else, be it a dish or a discarded glove. Unsure if his thoughts were heretical or not, Jinzo quickly finished his food, cleaned the Academy kitchen and rushed home to truly finish his thoughts.
When he had at last gotten home, he rushed past his siblings, barely bothering to say a greeting and nearly ran to his room where he quickly closed and locked his door. Having had more time to think about the idea, he went to his work bench and began to sketch out his thoughts. He could, no, he should start small. If he started too big then it would be too obvious that he was going down an obviously murky path. Jinzo was proficient in puppet taijutsu and on occasion he would use the tricks that he learned to entertain his siblings, but this would be an advanced level of even that. He would in effect be turning himself into the very thing that many children played with for fun. Working on the design process even further, by the time that Jinzo had managed to finish the first version of his proposed new form, the sunlight from a new day had caught up to the candlelight that was still burning in his room.
As the continued hours turned into days and the even those dragged on, Jinzo only made appearances in order to keep up appearances but his mind was usually far away, mentally working on his grand project while physically we went about his normal shinobi duties. Visiting every scrapyard that he could, and even managing to fake enough interest in a medical-nin class to procure the necessary medical supplies that he'd need, continue working on his creation. Needing to make proxies for all sorts of internal and external systems, though he considered himself an artist, the science would need to be greater than even his rudimentary vision. Unceremoniously, the first cut, was the hardest, it hurt, but it then it didn't, and as the lies started to add up, so too did the many modifications that he made to his body. With no one to guide him, and certainly without the ability to speak up of his own downward spiral into the maddening, Jinzo during more than one occasion had to resort to getting help from seedy shinobi who were also on their own trek through the arcane.
There were a number of times when his siblings wondered about his mental state, and wondered if he was pushing himself too hard to provide, but he brushed off their concerns and continued to surround himself with underground scientifically inclined ne'er-do-well's who were willing to go through great lengths for their own causes. Rubbing shoulders with such like minded people certainly reinforced Jinzo's belief that for people like him, augmentation and modification could overcome any blood locked obstacle, and sure enough, when at last his vision had come to reality, the last step was easier than he would have imagined. Some people were born special, Jinzo wasn't. Having walked into a dimly lit room in a far underground location than where he ever intended to be, Jinzo's only companions were the two already modified shinobi who were willing to help him and the new body that he was hoping to inhabit soon enough. "You sure about this?" The gruff voice of one of the shinobi was all that Jinzo could identify.
Having assumed that they all were shinobi, the fact that none of them ever exchanged real names helped to protect them from anybody blowing the cover on the operation but the mans question caused Jinzo to falter for the briefest of moments. Was he ready? From this point on, there was no point of return. Taking this next step would indeed free him from the ordinary body that he was born with, but even that liberation would leave him a prisoner in a shell of his own design. Was he confident in his technical prowess? Had he checked ever box on the checklist? Could he be certain that all of what he had amassed could legitimately not only protect him but allow him to be just as strong, if not stronger than those with a more natural talent? What would others think when they found out that he cheated his way beyond the genetic lottery pool? All those questions and more bubbled up and questioned his resolve. There were those that were born special and people like him who had to make themselves special.
Jinzo would have to be the hero of his own story and climb his own way up the ladder to keep up with the likes of his peers. In many respects, Jinzo would trade one set of puppet strings for another, only this time, he'd be the puppet master. While there would be artificial parts, some of the parts of him would still be him, some would taken from the scraps of other projects, and some would be wholly new inventions of his own design. All of that power and all those abilities were there in the soon to be living and breathing tomb that was the artificial body on the table. With just the transferring of his mind, via a complicated system of backups that he still only barely partially understood. Was he sure about it? "Yes." His answer though clear and succinct, could do little belie the faith that he had to have in technology to keep him alive. A long way from his dreams of simply being a chef or an artist, Jinzo walked towards the operating table and laid down. He had gone over the schematics, gone over the steps and understood enough about the operation to know that they were risk, but he was willing to risk it all at the hands of two nameless dark avengers that he considered to be kindred spirits. When the surgical mask slid over his face and he began to count backwards, the last thought in his mind and the strongest pull for him to wake up was the thought of restarting his story with a better body, unbound from its original creation.