The cold air felt good, the rain felt good, even the feeling of eyes on him felt good. Maki felt reborn, revitalized, reinvigorated for the trials and tribulations he had surpassed and had yet to meet. Happi was worried, he knew that much. Happi’s default state of being lately was to worry, and losing a limb to those freaks in Mist hadn’t done the man’s temperament any good. Still, Maki was beyond ecstatic to be back in his game.
Maki’s appearance was at once different and yet oh-so very familiar. A form-fitting black shirt covered his upper torso, the short sleeves barely reaching past his shoulders. Over this was a red jacket with black stripes on the arms, going to his wrist on said limbs and ending abruptly just at his ribs on his form. White marks of the symbol of Konoha decorated the breast and back of the garment. On these longer sleeves were the blood red han kote that had been with him for so long, forgotten these past years. A pair of black pants were on his lower form, with similar blood red haidate to provide shin protection. Brown boots completed the look down there, while gray bandage wrappings on his hands did so above.
But the most striking change in his appearance would be even higher. His hair was once more cut to eye level, black spikes of it falling around his face and providing tantalizing glimpse at the near-soulless orbs of his eyes. Gray windows to the madness of the soul beneath, they looked less like human eyes and more like those of a hawk watching a mouse run across a field. The way his hand rested on the katana hilt at his side left little doubt he was the predator in many situations. The other katana he wore was an odd one, however, for there was what looked to be a parrying ring built into it and the sheathe was bulkier.
Maki walks past the secretary, as they try to request he stop and demand an appointment he would turn his head and stare at them for a moment, transfixing them with that look. ”Is she with anyone important?” His voice was rough, tense, and promised agony if anything but the truth was forthcoming. The woman stutters a bit, unsure how to respond to this intense man who she knew before as being kind but also quite unbothered by threats to not simply walk into the Hokage’s office.
Finally she gives up and sits down, not wanting to earn ire from him. Maki turns back to the door and opens it, walking in and looking at the new Hokage. ”We need to talk.” It was not a request, nor even a demand. A simple statement of fact as he reaches into the jacket’s inner pockets and removed two shot glasses and a bottle of bourbon. And then takes a seat and motions for Asuka to do the same.
Maki’s appearance was at once different and yet oh-so very familiar. A form-fitting black shirt covered his upper torso, the short sleeves barely reaching past his shoulders. Over this was a red jacket with black stripes on the arms, going to his wrist on said limbs and ending abruptly just at his ribs on his form. White marks of the symbol of Konoha decorated the breast and back of the garment. On these longer sleeves were the blood red han kote that had been with him for so long, forgotten these past years. A pair of black pants were on his lower form, with similar blood red haidate to provide shin protection. Brown boots completed the look down there, while gray bandage wrappings on his hands did so above.
But the most striking change in his appearance would be even higher. His hair was once more cut to eye level, black spikes of it falling around his face and providing tantalizing glimpse at the near-soulless orbs of his eyes. Gray windows to the madness of the soul beneath, they looked less like human eyes and more like those of a hawk watching a mouse run across a field. The way his hand rested on the katana hilt at his side left little doubt he was the predator in many situations. The other katana he wore was an odd one, however, for there was what looked to be a parrying ring built into it and the sheathe was bulkier.
Maki walks past the secretary, as they try to request he stop and demand an appointment he would turn his head and stare at them for a moment, transfixing them with that look. ”Is she with anyone important?” His voice was rough, tense, and promised agony if anything but the truth was forthcoming. The woman stutters a bit, unsure how to respond to this intense man who she knew before as being kind but also quite unbothered by threats to not simply walk into the Hokage’s office.
Finally she gives up and sits down, not wanting to earn ire from him. Maki turns back to the door and opens it, walking in and looking at the new Hokage. ”We need to talk.” It was not a request, nor even a demand. A simple statement of fact as he reaches into the jacket’s inner pockets and removed two shot glasses and a bottle of bourbon. And then takes a seat and motions for Asuka to do the same.
