Drawing a Blank... (Or Shooting One) [Requesting Entrance]

[Nakamura Hira]

When is the time ever right? Definitely not when a sheet of rain thicker than bedrock flushes everything with any sense from its path. At this point, however, he felt senseless. Without his wits, he felt unhindered to push himself to extremes of enviable proportion. Standing at the foot of the watershed basin before a massive inlet, there was an uncanny grandeur to the masonic constructs of Stone. Certainly, the place was overlooked in the past by the inhabitants of water country. It never appeared to be a place with threatening goals or admirable strength. In the face of it, however, one could only wonder what was its significance. Perhaps the leadership of Kirigakure was running errant with a deceptive propaganda, misleading its greatest proponents during its splendor.

A rush of air brought up a smell of coal and resin through the tireless downpour, and as it lifted its way into his nostrils for acknowledgement, his eyes touched the sky and watched lightning crack into the deep with a powerful crash. The resounding shudder could have brought a regular human to his knees, but this man was far from regular. Especially here.

What an unsightly mess. I certainly hope this weather clears shortly to allow my passage, or at least allow me the courtesy of a full picture for my viewing pleasure.

He held on to a spear that was stuck in the earth before him, left perhaps by some one as a marker of sorts. He paid no mind to the symbolic reason, trying his best to take in the arching slopes and drastic shifts in elevation. In terms of extremes, Iwagakure was on some other shit. His clothing whispered in the wind, with the weight of all the water that had soaked him through to the bone. The journey was almost over.

[Requesting Entry]​

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[Haruka]

Re: Drawing a Blank... (Or Shooting One) [Requesting Entranc


Today seemed like a good day to get out, right? To take a breather from any other working. Pushing himself up out of his chair, he would drop the book that he had been reading on the chair's side table. Pacing his way to the front door, he would grab his hat and a jacket to wear over his shirt. With a heavy handed grip, the door to his house would be flung open and the mountain of a man stepped out of the confines. Slamming the door behind him, he would lift a hand up, the rain droplets splashing against his calloused hand.

Sigh, yare yare daze.

It just had to be raining, didn't it? It could never be simple when Kazuhiko left his post in the Medical clinic or from his house. Reaching up, his large hand would yank down the cap of his hat in attempts to shield his face from the onslaught of rain, but really. . . Did it do any good? The Jashinist paced his way down towards the gateway of the village. It was time to see what all was happening here and what people were bitching about their posts nowadays. His feet would splash in the puddles that were collecting rainwater. At least these weren't his decent pair of shoes that he used on the floor. Still, it was still an annoyance for things to get water logged or something like that.

As he approached, he would stop and look at the person who was walking towards the village. So, would this be a Stoner or someone slightly more interesting? It was time to see.

"Can I help you?" He'd demand in a gruff tone of voice, watching on with his turquoise eyes.<i></i>

 

[Nakamura Hira]

Re: Drawing a Blank... (Or Shooting One) [Requesting Entranc

Hair fell from his head roving as raven inkblots, laced with droplets of heavy liquid form. Lengthy fingers drew them away like curtains open from windows on a gray day. He didn't blink. Not even once did eyelids clammer shut in the face of the approaching foreigner. He stood, stoic as a tree with no leaves left to count the days of his season. He felt just as withered as a tree before winter, with an axman approaching him for something to feed his flame. But he was drenched with the monsoon's parting gift of water, and certainly no such wood would burn willingly.

Pulling his hand from his face, feeling the water reeling down his face and neck in quick procession. They were taking advantage of his stillness, taking the swiftest dash they could to escape to their destinations. The raindrops were intended for the ground. But in his hair, they would wane and evaporate into the air and once again remain in the clouds... Dormant, useless, and lost. He felt aligned quite nicely with the weather, in that it was everything he ever knew himself to be--Looking for a way down. Down and out. Or in, perhaps in the perspective of one who could understand that perspective could place any one thing in proper definition.

No one can help me.

There was no smile to be had. Instead, he closed his eyes and drew in air to his bronchioles. He felt the humid chill brush his heart, and felt alive again as he looked up metaphorically. That is, he looked up, while still looking down and all the way around in every which way he could. He shuddered now, for the feeling of coming into contact with a parallel reality to his own was a reminder he felt grateful to perceive. There were thousands, if not millions of other shinobi out there-- and they existed in villages, much like his own, going about business as usual. As they pumped through the veins of their homelands, asking strangers of if they could be helped or not, the reality remained static for him. There was no way to help some one that essentially was dead.

Perhaps you may.

He felt an adverse pressure come from the contender, and heeded it little mind. After all, what more did he really have to lose?​

 

[Haruka]

Re: Drawing a Blank... (Or Shooting One) [Requesting Entranc


This man. . . He knew that he had never seen him around these parts, and he seemed like one who would not blend in so easily. Kazuhiko's eyes would sum him up quickly, one fell swoop was all he needed. The medic could ascertain the weariness that this person seemed to have. Either they were a civilian caught out in the tempest that swept through the country, or a vagabond wearily traveling the land. Either way, if there was trouble, then he could easily sweep this man's feet from beneath of him. Reaching up, he would place his hands upon something that was underneath of the band of his hat, and he would place it into his mouth. With a flick of his finger, despite any rain that may have shown up there, a spark would light up the tip there and he would use it to light the cigar that he just placed into his mouth-- because cigarettes were way too tame for a man that was damn near impossible to kill. Waving his hand, the chakra induced flame would be put out and he would take a long, thoughtful drag there. Slight sizzling sounds would cross over the plain the two stood on from raindrops colliding with the lit end of that cigar. Closing his eyes for a moment, he would pull the cigar away before speaking again: "Enough with the cryptic bullshit," he would comment, wisps of smoke clinging to his abrasive words. "I know that I'll be able to help you, one way, or another. You're a weary traveler, whether shinobi or not. . . and we offer shelter." He would lift up his cigar and take in yet another long inhale of the toxin into his body, feeling the slight buzz tickle at his senses. . . but as soon as it appeared, it would dissipate. That was his body fighting off the foreign invader, of course.

"Now, what will it be? Will you grace me with more than three words? Or will I have to beg and plead?" He would speak with the cigar still clenched between his teeth, and his tone as baritone as ever. There was no struggle or strain present in his voice to keep it locked between his teeth. No, no, no. He was skilled at attempting to kill himself. Now, we need to get back on track with the topic. . . because this man was most certainly not going to get down on one knee for anyone else. Not even his leaders could make him bend at the knee. . . and boy, he would love to see them attempt it so he could laugh in their faces. <i></i>

 

[Nakamura Hira]

Re: Drawing a Blank... (Or Shooting One) [Requesting Entranc

The light of a flame produced a flicker in the dark of the tempest, leaving in its wake a brief glint in the eyes of the contender. Perhaps he wasn't aware of the image he gave off, unconcerned with appearances to disadvantaged entrants presenting themselves on whatever platform they stood. Standing there, as glacial on the inside as he was on the outside, he continued to feel water dust itself along his skin and hair. Each droplet chilled his scalp and his blood bleeding on through each vein. Present as ever, and conscious of the fact that any welcome could be worn out voluntarily by a gift horse feeling inadequate of its mouth.

You're right. I am weary. I've been traveling for almost two months to stand at these gates and be eroded like dunes in the slicing winds of your words. Tell me, to what name do I owe the pleasure?

His voice spoke clear as a whistle, but soft as the run-off coming down the cliffside surrounding them. Some part of where they were was reminiscent of the inside of a cave, but somehow much greater and more open than one could naturally occur. He held out one arm, watching the soaked sleeves of his cloak dangle rigidly with weight before his eyes. The rain had made his travel heavier than normal, but of no consequential challenge. It had simply been an amusing variable, leaving him further disconnected than he had been from himself in sixty days.

You need not beg nor plead, however, I pray that you are kind enough to see that I come here with nothing. I have taken a vow of poverty in the wake of a vital loss, and come here with nothing to spare but my very own life... Even that feels fragile.

He feigned the truth, hoping to inspire an empathetic gesture for at least a moment long enough to achieve his goals of entering the village. After all, he truly did carry nothing but a few personal belongings which had little monetary significance. However, his strength and abilities were worth far more than anyone would visibly be able to detect.

I come here seeking passage, and shelter from the cold. My providence has led me here, to what end I do not know.​

 

[Haruka]

Re: Drawing a Blank... (Or Shooting One) [Requesting Entranc


To be Jekyll or to be Hyde on this dreary, rain stricken night? It was a decent question that he found himself struggling to answer. Ever since he had come across Kari and made her into. . . what she is now, a human puppet, one so delicately and painstakingly made, his time had become so liquid that it all just flowed together. How long had it been that he worked with her to become the image that she needed to be to keep from coming under the metaphorical gun? Now, the one deciding factor would truly be the position of the moon on this night. Smoke would flow freely from his nostrils as he exhaled outwards. The positioning would have been something. . . but, the cloud coverage was far too much on this night for him to really tell. So, this man would live to see yet another day. "Akiyama Kazuhiko." He would give in response, his voice a monotone ghost of what it had once previously been. If it had not been for Kari, this man would not be able to see another day. . . So perhaps he needed to go find the young human puppet and thank her, but that would only tip her off to the nature that Kazuhiko had and would ruin the act that he put on.

"I will grant you entry to this village. It's your lucky night, so if you drop unconscious or something, I'll be able to see that you're fine. Let's shut the hell up and get to walking," he would state, turning on his foot to enter the village. A slight squeak would echo throughout the area at the sound. Lifting up his arm, he would grab on to the cigar and put it out directly onto his wrist. Thankfully, the smell of seared flesh and tobacco mingling together would not cut past the wind and humidity to assault the man's nose.

"Typically, when one man asks the name of the other, he is kind enough to provide his first. You have shit for manners, you know?"

How comical. Ha ha ha.

[ Hira granted Entry to Stone ]
[ Topic Left ]<i></i>

 

[Nakamura Hira]

Re: Drawing a Blank... (Or Shooting One) [Requesting Entranc

Retracting his arm subtly in the gloom and doom, he furrowed his brow lightly in amusement and uncertainty in one combined effort. Akiyama Kazuhiko, the first tool that had an employed purpose he had encountered since he left home, was far from his expectation of a good ninja. Perhaps that was the way he wished to appear? He fathomed the proper response for an instant, but bore little caution for any connotation he would create forthwith. Kazuhiko was crude, and such things were details he would likely enjoy to be spared from.

Kazuhiko queried boldly for a name in return, and would only receive the illusion of one. Hira was not here to reveal his identity to anyone with a curious mind, nor to establish his dominance as a powerhouse in the world of cunning men. Instead, he mentally distorted his self-image. In this moment, he was akin to a soaked raven with no clutch to heed and an injured talon in tow.

They used to call me Kureno Irotsuya, among others. That name is for you to define me.

His eyes shifted up and down Kazuhiko, sizing him up for some unknown purpose.

Iro is suitable.

Hira presumed the man to be some one who didn't have time for lengthy names and formalized delegation. He seemed to be rather modest, for a man with the keys to the gates of his village. Taking a step forward, he ushered Kazuhiko take the lead and began moving with him, believing that he would lead the way. Beliefs such as these were often naive in the world of Shinobi, where it was impossible to ever know if you were hunting or being hunted.

[Entering Village. Leaving Topic]​