"Still no place to stay..." Not that Ritsuro could ask for much, he'd only just arrived, and there was no one he knew in the village. Rising from his cozy corner of an alleyway, the child held his stomach. He was hungry, and on top of that the worms which infested his body were especially rambunctious today. Movement beneath the skin could be observed if one looked close enough, as Ri began making his way to the main road. A sharp pain came over him, an intense feeling throughout his body which caused him to collapse - he would almost say there was a whisper - but the feeling soon passed. Clambering to his feet, he continued his trek to the marketplace. Unfortunately, that sensation was not uncommon when living with what he did.
That aside.. This city was truly amazing, at least compared to the hole he'd called home for so long. So many people, buildings larger than all of the huts from home stacked on top of each other. Everyone was different, their own style, personality, everything, and it baffled Ritsuro. The only people that made any sense to the boy were the "shinobi" - or whatever people called them - prowling the village. At least they had some sense of uniformity - not that he could speak, with his trashy appearance. For now though, there was only one thing Ritsuro could think about, and if there was anything he'd learned on his own...
Hey brat, get back here! It was stealing. He'd been starving every since his good-for-nothing father ditched him at the gates of Kumogakure, and having nothing but a note didn't help him procure food. Running and running, the boy eventually found himself in another alleyway, free from the gaze of the poor merchant he'd stolen a kebab from and anyone else who might've been pursuing him. Or so he hoped, he'd seen some of what those shinobi were capable of, and there was no telling if this was a serious enough offense for them to chase him.
Now, he could eat.
That aside.. This city was truly amazing, at least compared to the hole he'd called home for so long. So many people, buildings larger than all of the huts from home stacked on top of each other. Everyone was different, their own style, personality, everything, and it baffled Ritsuro. The only people that made any sense to the boy were the "shinobi" - or whatever people called them - prowling the village. At least they had some sense of uniformity - not that he could speak, with his trashy appearance. For now though, there was only one thing Ritsuro could think about, and if there was anything he'd learned on his own...
Hey brat, get back here! It was stealing. He'd been starving every since his good-for-nothing father ditched him at the gates of Kumogakure, and having nothing but a note didn't help him procure food. Running and running, the boy eventually found himself in another alleyway, free from the gaze of the poor merchant he'd stolen a kebab from and anyone else who might've been pursuing him. Or so he hoped, he'd seen some of what those shinobi were capable of, and there was no telling if this was a serious enough offense for them to chase him.
Now, he could eat.