Having a Nice Time [Saemon]

[Motomori Mouko]

The room was dimly lit with the fires of dozens of candles strewn about a rather large room decorated with many curtains of soft shades of color. The music drifting around the room was soft and loving, but the vulgar shouts of men added to the harp made the sound harsh. The building was packed, no chairs to be found around, as drinks, laughter, and vulgar words were thrown about. A top a much brighter stage in the center of the room stood a long piece of metal reaching from the floor to the ceiling, and atop that pole moved the sensuous body of a gorgeous young lady moving along it. Her body was clad in a nice velvet cloth that would flow like water moving along her body. Her hair was long and sandy colored, flying from side to side as she moved her head. The entire show was quite fantastic in the eyes of the twelve year old boy as he looked on with bright eyes. Mouko had been given a day off that morning, and his original thoughts were to walk through the village. He had no idea that the nice building with the hanging banners displaying "Come! Have a Good Time!" would mean that the woman before him would be moving around intensely. He had only been in the building for a few moments, before a rather large man stepped in front of his view and stared down at him. "Hey you little pervert! Time to go!" Mouko's eyes opened much wider as the man reached his hands outward, taking a heavy grip, and actually threw the young man into the streets. Mouko landed with a crash, dust flying all around him for a few seconds. "DO NOT COME BACK KID!" The man shouted very loudly, feeding his voice with chakra to actually make it louder. It was certainly enough to turn the heads of the men and women walking down the streets at that time. Mouko's cheeks heated up rather quickly as he stood up. He gave a loud sigh, looking up at the bouncer of the club, "Yes sir, I am sorry for my mistake." The boy's voice was full of calm, but his body obviously told a different story. He was rather mortified by the entire situation. His loose traveling cloak was covered in dust that just would not come off no matter how much he tried to dust himself off. He had just been interested in the buildings flashy showing and the attention it brought to having a good time. He definitely berated himself about the misconception, now realizing what the sign had meant. Mouko did not bother to listen to the words that the man was saying to him at the time, and instead began to walk down the street again. As he dusted more of the dirt from his cloaks, so did his anger and mortification subside. "Well, I guess there's nothing I can do about it, I might as well see what else is in this part of town."

[MFT: 498]

 

[Hanone]

The day had been busy for Saemon. Earlier that morning, even earlier than it was now, the monster sized man had been called to action. At first he hadn't known what the call was for, other than it's urgency. It was a call for the ANBU Saemon and not the man himself, so he'd arrived at the gates in gear, mask and all. It turned out the woman in peril was Kitanai, his most recent girlfriend and raven haired beauty. At the time he was forced to be all duty and clear minded on the task. Because of it, 20 men ended up, literally, on spikes that morning and Kitanai had survived.

But now that it was over, the man was left in a state of surreal. He always felt this otherworldly feeling after that much bloodshed, as if it were another life and not his. After the fight he had left and made his report, then washed and changed at the prison to avoid any looks. He'd bandaged up most of his wounds, but his state of injury was still very apparent. His face had a long scatch going down the middle of his forehead, his leg was bandaged heavily as well as his side, though those were covered by his black pants and shirt. The marks along his hands and arms were more obvious, some he didn't even wrap.

He had been asked to come see Kitanai later in the hospital grounds, but he couldn't bring himself to see her yet. He didn't feel like dealing with female emotions just yet so he found himself walking down the streets of the Grand Palais. For all the dirt, scum and poorness of the place, he felt at ease. A beer sounded nice.

However, the day was full of interesting things. Shortly up the road, a small commotion was going on. A bouncer tossed a small male out the front door of The Lounge who landed in a heap of dust and embarrassment. Saemon almost didn't stop walking, until he noticed that he, in fact, knew the tossee. He was a boy and one he'd 'taught a class' to not so long ago. Perhaps, under usual circumstances, he wouldn't have remembered a student. But this boy, with the funny hair and goggles who probably STILL had his boot print on his chest, was an easy one to recall.

He stopped in his tracks as the boy rose to his feet and walked away in an ashamed manner. He was so busy dusting off his cloaks that he might not have noticed the man, as hard as that would have been. So he reached out and smacked the kid in the back of the head lightly. "The fuck was all that, midget?"

 

[Motomori Mouko]

Mouko was not in a very good place as he walked down the street, the trail of dust quieting down quite a bit now that all the commotion was over with. He had not wandered into this part of town too often in his youth, nor did his parents bring him with them whenever they needed to come here. It was truly an honest mistake that anyone could have made, especially if they were not aware of the circumstances. Berating himself would only bring him more misery, so he decided to let it go for the time being. Maybe soon he would head back to his garden, and meditate some more on the calm within himself. Besides that, there was only training for him in some lonely courtyard.

As the boy walked down the street, he felt another heavy impact land on his already aching back. From the days of training, and of course the not so long ago fight against the 'Mountain', he was really sore. This was especially true when it came to his back, which seemed to be dealing with more trouble then was ever asked for it. Although, the muscles along that part of his body were toning up quite nicely as a result of his training. Mouko's arms were still long and lanky, and his legs weren't much better, but his back and chest muscles were very tone and even. As the hand landed on the muscle, he felt a sudden sear of pain run through him, almost like whenever someone would hit a fresh sunburn with their open palm. His back twitched, sending his chest outwards for a second.

On any normal circumstances he would have made the attempt to turn his body for momentum, and then using his fist to drive into the persons face. In fact, that was almost exactly what Mouko did as his brain began to register the action of an attack. Although, before he could bring his fist to bear, he heard the voice of a very familiar man that had haunted him ever since their last encounter. It was a voice that rang through his ears often as he trained, and told him how inferior he was. That voice was connected to the very man that had shown Mouko, along with two other students, just how weak they truly were compared to real shinobi. The boy stopped as he was looking at Saemon, and his eyes blinked a few times before he was able to respond. "Oh, that? You saw that huh? It was nothing, I just walked into the wrong building is all. I hadn't realized that it was *that* kind of place."

 

[Hanone]

The man couldn't help but indulge in a small smile at the boy's reaction. He was still in some pain and was obviously ready to lash out at his assailant, but stalled the moment he knew who it was. Smart choice. Saemon wouldn't have had an issue with putting the boy back in the dirt for trying.

But it was the boy's explanation of what had happened that made the man roll his eyes. So he was kicked out a strip club, okay, but because he had entered there by accident? "Shit I was sneaking into those places on purpose when I was your age, that was until I got bigger than the bouncers and they could no longer kick me out." What he really wanted to ask the kid was, what do you mean 'that' kind of place? Are you gay? But he didn't. Saemon rarely voiced his more rude thoughts to others. Course if the boy said he was gay, then he'd understand, but he doubted that was the case.

Remembering he hand't had a smoke in over an hour or so, the big man pulled out the pack and poked one between his lips, the held the package out to the boy. His other hand, all the while, busy with lighting his own. "So do you want to go in then?" Yes, the bad man was offering not only a cigarette to the youth, but to take him back to the place that had kicked him out. But he made his thoughts clear a moment later, "I'd kick his ass for tossing me out like that."

 

[Motomori Mouko]

The world around the two men had stopped as the dust began to settle from the previous encounter. The people that were originally bustling through the district with as much vigor as they could spare, were now moving a bit slower. Many of them seemed to almost make it a point to avoid the academy student, and the much larger Jounin beside him. Whereas before, they were knocking into Mouko left and right, almost not being able to register his location at all. Mouko knew that it probably had more to do with Saemon then the commotion that had been caused earlier, but he decided to ignore it. There was no reason to delve into something that could just be a part of the kids imagination after a possibly trying embarrassment. The kid looked through the splitting tide of the the people, and back onto the club that the bouncer had chucked him out of. The man had gone back inside shortly after the spectacle, and was no longer to be seen in the streets.

When Mouko turned his head back to the larger ninja beside him, he saw the cigarette poking out from between the man's fingers. Without really thinking about the motion, having been given the same treatment by his father, he liberated the tobacco from Saemon. As he spoke, holding the fag out for a light, his voice was rather serene and calm. It was a practiced method that Mouko had learned to perfect through years of practice. "It's not that I didn't like what was going on inside of the building, but none of it was worth causing trouble over. The Eightfold Path teaches us to forgive those that we would normally be intolerant towards, no matter how difficult that may be some days."

Mouko's head drifted up towards the clouds for a moment, his face washing over with relief before he spoke once again. His words came out as unsure, and almost a bit afraid, but he still managed to choke them out with a modicum of respect. "I need some sake. Would you like to join me, Saemon-senpai?"

 

[Hanone]

Sake, he could go with that. That was all he agreed with in in Mouko's whole selection of words.

Saemon was sure to light the boy's cigarette before shaking his hand, ending the little flame jutsu before waving the same hand forward as if to say, lead on. Where-ever the boy chose to take them fro the drink, he was sure to walk slowly. He was in no rush. The monster of a man didn't want to get over to that hospital yet and the drink was welcome.

"You know, that's just bullshit, right?" it might take the boy a minute to get what he was saying, but he clarified and would make it more clear. "Forgiveness is weakness. Forgiveness earns you a knife in the spine. It's for the civvys, kid, not the killers." Saemon pulled a drag from his own cancer stick, relishing in the harsh flavor then let it out.

"How old are you anyway?" Saemon didn't remember if the boy had told him before.. he was surprised he remembered his name.

 

[Motomori Mouko]

Mouko nodded his head as he headed down the streets a little more, walking towards a little shack on the side that had nothing more than a cloth over it. He knew that here the old man running the shop wouldn't care how old anyone was, especially Mouko, son of his father. As the two walked, Mouko took a long drag from the cigarette, remembering the last time his uncle had come to town and treating him to the luxury. The monks were poor, but they found great wealth in their smoke, even selling some of their own private stash to other villages to help the community stay afloat. The sand country had never been one to take care of the people that lived out in the harsh desert. It was certainly a hard place to live.

Saemon had always seemed strong to the academy student, but he had never seemed like the unforgiving type. Maybe there was more to the story, but a boy so young and inexperienced should not ask such questions of his elders. Instead, Mouko took the chance to explain himself a little. "Forgiveness is taught as the aspect hardest to attain among the Eight Paths. This world is forever growing, right around us, everyday. If we continue on in a path of hatred and revenge, then that darkness will consume future generations as well. Although, if we seek forgiveness, companionship, trust, and truth, then our future could be one of good fortune and peace. What may be crap to you Saemon-senpai, is a doctrine of faith to me. After all, I am only a shinobi by the behest of my father. Had he not had a say in my life, I would have joined my uncle and the monks in the Sand Countries monastery. Although, while I am a ninja, I will use this path as a way to protect my allies, and spare the lives of my enemies as best as I can. I have no illusions as to the nature of our business, and I know that the time will come where I must take the life of another. But I will not do so if not warranted. A life can only be accepted for the life of another."

Mouko had stepped into the shop before Saemon's last question weighed down on him. He took a moment before answering, almost seeming like he was thinking on the topic a little more then he probably should have been. His eyes were unfocused, but his structure seemed relaxed. When he spoke, even his own voice sounded uncertain as to whether or not the answer was true. "I am thirteen.

 

[Hanone]

He was right; Saemon didn't give his previous statements much thought. He didn't much fancy forgiveness or compassion. He really thought shit of any gods. The only god there was, was shinigami. He would eventually take them all.. whatever else there was didn't concern him.

So he fixated on the boy's age. He was only 13. Or wait... 13? Saemon's mouth puzzled a moment before he looked down at the boy with a dry expression. "And you're still a student?" he asked, his gravelly voice deeply unimpressed. At 13 one should be shit deep in dangers and fighting, student? He looked ahead as they came to the entry of the bar. It was a ragged looking place with more heart than beauty. He'd been there before.

"Why haven't you graduated yet? Didja start late? Fool of the class?" Although his words weren't nice, they were honest questions. Most children were genin by then. Perhaps the boy was overlooked somehow. He had seen him fight and well there was nothing worth bragging about yet, he wasn't fodder.

A man in the bar named Rikyo waved at Saemon, or kinds flicked his fingers at him, a greeting Saemon returned in kind before passing over to the tall bar with Mouko. He nodded to the bartender and asked for two sake bottles, warmed. They would arrive shortly. The tall brute of a man slipped into a chair; it was almost too small for him.

 

[Motomori Mouko]

Mouko had figured that the man would ignore his words, being older and merely taking the kid as just that, a kid. Most people did not hear the words of the younger group too easily, but that had never bothered the young student very much. He knew what his path was and he would continue towards it as best as he could. Almost everyone talked down to him, ever since he was put into the academy. It was just merely a fact of life that he had to deal with. His goals were not to protect himself, but rather all the people that constantly put him down.

The young ninja stared at the much larger one, wondering how odd it actually was for someone not to graduate early in the sand village. He could not be too much older then the other kids, could he? He dismissed the thoughts of inadequacy, and followed the older gentleman to their seats within the bar. It certainly was not much to look at from Mouko's perspective. Most of the wood was old, splintered, and covered in unidentifiable stains. The bottles on the shelves were layered with thick dust, obviously from a long time of neglect. The walls possessed a few dents, large enough to have been caused by heads, fist, and even entire bodies. Although, through all of the older wood, there was obvious signs of new wood. It was probably the case of someone having to do some patch work. The boy took his seat quickly enough, ignoring more of the stares from the people inside of the bar. Again, he had no doubt that they were staring at Saemon rather then himself. He seemed to almost be a celebrity in the village, something Mouko took quick note of.

"Well, I hadn't realized that I was so much older then the other kids. I guess it would have a lot to do with the year or so I spent arguing with my father about letting me go to the monastery with my uncle. In my family, when someone asks to be taken in as a monk's apprentice it instigates months of debate and conversations. Ultimately though, my father won against my uncle and me. I ended up joining the academy after all of that. I guess I never realized the age differences. Then again, I've always been bigger then most of those kids. Hell, every time I would spar with them, they could never really hurt me. There were times when the teachers would have the other students just try to move me a little bit to test their taijutsu. No one ever could. I guess I know why now." Mouko let out a nervous laughter, his hand drifting to the back of his head. He certainly was not used to opening up about his past so much. Most of his time arguing with his father had been done in the privacy of their own home, his father never wanting to soil their good name within the village. Then again, Mouko could care less about his image among the people of the village. He also fully planned to follow his own path to be like the Wind Monks.

When the boy's laughter had died down within the small bar, he grew quiet for a few moments. His mind drifted to his fight with Saemon, and how the three ninja cadets could not do anything against such a strong opponent. Mouko looked up at the man for a few moments, noticing just how small he was in comparison. The entire culmination of Mouko's muscles added together probably would be half that was in the large man's right arm. "Saemon-senpai, may I ask you a question?" Mouko waited only a moment, not really giving the older man a chance to answer his first question, but instead he went ahead and asked what was on his mind anyways. "What has made you so powerful?"


[MFT: 668]

 

[Hanone]

The sake arrived quickly, halfway through Mouko's talking. It wasn't the best brand, but it would be nice all the same. He ignored the little cups that came with it and drank straight from the curved lip edge instead. The second bottle would be Mouko's for his leisure.

This time he listened to the boy. Well that wasn't fair, he'd listened last time too, but this time he would comment where it was applicable. He was even attempting to be nice when he did, "Well maybe you're just meant to be a killer, not a priest. It's not a pretty life, but at least you get something back from it." Saemon loathed the gods and he felt a lame-loathing for most of the people who spent their lives dedicated to the works of some fictional characters. He'd killed a priest or two in his life and all they'd been able to do was pray for their lives, the ones he didn't spare and no godly hand came down to save.

Sighing, Saemon sipped more sake. It was sharp, but went down easy enough. Too bad one bottle did nothing for someone his size. Drinking was an expensive hobby when you're 265 lbs of muscle. Of which the latter thought was brought into questions. His strength, his power. Yes, there was no question he had a prowess about him and a fury to rival shinigami's, the only true god. But what made him powerful?

That was a loaded question, or at least, it would give cause for loaded answers. "I made myself powerful." it seemed like a lame answer if you took it at face value. Saemon elaborated, "After my father died and I had to care for my brother, I saw there were no gods that would protect me, no mercy to be seen. Truth was only in blood and victory. Truth is what you make it. The one who dies can't tell the story, take away your life from you. I.." he paused and took another drink. "It was be the best or watch Roku die. Watch the same men tear you apart like your family. You make yourself powerful, kid. You only do that if you find a reason, a real reason."

And that was way more of himself than he liked to share regularly. He didn't know why he said half of that to the kid, but he saw some of himself in Mouko. Not in principles perhaps, but who he used to be. Saemon used to be like him until he'd found his reason to be powerful. So he turned it on the boy, wanting to not talk about himself. He looked down at him, his hand posed with the sake beside his lips. "Why, do you want to be like me?"

 

[Motomori Mouko]

As the sake hit the table, Mouko merely stared at it until he had finish his speech. The bottle was made out of some sort of clay compound, like they always were. They were made to pour, but the larger man had simple gone against the objects making, and drank straight from it. It certainly wasn't uncommon for a shinobi to drink, especially as they grew older in this life. Most people in the village did not even care about the age limit for drinking in the sand village, times were just too hard in these days. The young ninja took the bottle in his hands, turning it around for a few seconds as he admired the workmanship that had gone into it, and listened to the words spilling out of the older shinobi's mouth. It had been a long time since Mouko had talked so freely with someone else, not since the last time he had seen his uncle at least.

From the moment that Saemon's story started, Mouko could tell how the man had become so powerful and angry. He could not even begin to fathom the depths of the darkness that the man had reached. All of that pressure would force anyone to be strong, or to get crushed easily. It was apparent that Saemon had not only lived a hard life, but a long one in the respect of the shinobi world. There was nothing that anyone could do to change the past, but Mouko did not believe that he ever wanted to repeat such atrocities. He had no clue how to respond to such an amazing tale, so instead of saying anything at all, Mouko turned his sake bottle upside down, taking a really long swig from the bottle. He didn't bother to respect the taste at first, ignoring the first rule of drinking any sort of alcohol. Instead, he just downed half the bottle in one gulp. The burn emitted throughout his throat and belly nicely, warming his body considerably. It was possibly the most warmth the boy had felt since joining the academy, even so far out in the desert.

"I don't really believe in the gods either, to tell the truth. I've never seen one. I believe in this desert. It's winds so powerful that they change the shape of mountains, its sand so eternal that it takes weeks to find the earth in some places. Priesthood has never suited me, but the monastery is more than that. They are taught to endure the winds with nothing more than their will. The Eightfold is merely a way of living, made by a man... Never mind. You are probably not interested in the long answer." Mouko shook his head for a second as the alcohol took effect of his mind. Most people thought so ill of the drug, but truth was, it was a practice older then time itself. It was a way for a person to escape the harsh realities of life, and dive into a new world. It was also not nearly enough to make Mouko stumble from the bar, even at his young of an age. "I was chosen for this life, so I will make the best of it. I don't want the evils of the shinobi life to haunt me, but I know that they will. They may even change me. I just want to be ready for everything this world has to throw at me. I want to withstand the harsh winds as those ancient mountains do. That, is what I want Senpai."

 

[Hanone]

The boy was not like the others he'd met. Most children, even those raised here and around battle and bloodshed seemed to exist and grow with this childish notion of life. So many are more interested in which girl will look at their newly forming muscles, or later, which one he can seek into his bed. And the girls, they were more interested in how pretty they could look than how strong their ninjutsu was. Saemon hated those children. So many of them died early because they weren't ready or never achieved anything more than boring medical status so they could 'feel useful'.

The brute too another swig, enough to empty the small bottle completely, then set it back on the bar and pushed it away with his index finger as he listened to the boy speak. He wasn't as foolish as the others, not quite anyway. He had been overzealous when he'd fought the monster the first time perhaps, but in mind; he was sound.

The thing was.. it turned out he was interested in the long answer, though he didn't say it. He looked at the boy's face and sighed. "Come on kid." he said, standing back up from the bar and leaving some yen. "Take that thing with you, I wanna show you something." he knew they'd only been there a short while, but the place held no real appeal outside the drinks. It even smelled in there.

Saemon wanted to take the boy out somewhere in particular, hopefully he would follow him there.

[topic left, making a new one at the gate]

 

[Motomori Mouko]

Mouko looked on towards the man as he got some weird look in his eye. The sudden motion of the sake bottle surprised Mouko, who had always been taught that he should enjoy any alcohol that may come along. Saemon was talking about following him somewhere, somewhere that apparently was important to him. Who was the boy to argue with the man's statement. He was a lower rank of ninja, and no where near the strength of Saemon, nor would he be anytime son in his life. The young ninja's only chance was to listen to what the older one had to say and follow suit. He grabbed his own sake bottle, already half empty, and proceeded to turn the succulent drink upwards. He let the bitter liquid slide down his throat, burning through his chest powerfully. He let the courage fill himself, and moved out the door behind the Mountain of the sands. He made sure to wave to the bartender as he left, even leaving a few coins on the table for the man. It was a pretty crappy bar, as far as places around this part of the village were concerned, but at least it did have drinks.

"Well, let's get on with it then."

[Topic Left]