Ninpocho Chronicles

Ninpocho Chronicles is a fantasy-ish setting storyline, set in an alternate universe World of Ninjas, where the Naruto and Boruto series take place. This means that none of the canon characters exists, or existed here.

Each ninja starts from the bottom and start their training as an Academy Student. From there they develop abilities akin to that of demigods as they grow in age and experience.

Along the way they gain new friends (or enemies), take on jobs and complete contracts and missions for their respective villages where their training and skill will be tested to their limits.

The sky is the limit as the blank page you see before you can be filled with countless of adventures with your character in the game.

This is Ninpocho Chronicles.

Current Ninpocho Chronicles Time:

Private Mentally Will [Req. Shinjo]

Kagami Miro

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That damned new recruit. A once aspiring shinobi that went awol all because HE himself decided to strike down his own fiance. A terrible blunder and a huge damning mistake on Shinjo’s part. The ANBU Sennin read through the multiple incident reports that overflowed in his dossier. A failed mission here, a bloody murder on a Tenouzan informant there. To top it all off he consistently painted bar tables with the blood of patrons. Granted, they weren’t the best characters to have around the newly rebuilt suburbs of Cronopolis however there was rule and law to follow. Within the codex one is not to draw attention to themselves as an ANBU operative. Yet, Shinjo wanted to stand out and accept any fight that came his way. Mirō slammed her fist down on her desk in frustration, breaking the solid mahogany desk. “My protégé dared spit on my Organization after I saved his miserable ass.” Her teeth clenched with anger. Shinjo screwed up big time.

“Son of a BITCH.” She shouted, which had been unlike her. Lately her work load stood taller than the Raikage’s new building and with new regimes and shoddy standards being implemented her own pride and duty felt tested. And to top it off, that tall freak from the Main Branch snatched up a promising up-and-comer. If she caught wind of her own protégé going awol and slandering the name of the ANBU, she’d never hear the end of it. Suddenly her office door opened up. Her strategist, Quenchin, entered with a bow. “Mirō-Sama. One of our captains, Hyuuga Honnou, just reported that Shinjo has been admitted into the hospital. Shall we proceed with your plans?”

The ANBU Sennin pushed back in her seat and stood up. A free hand grabbed the black cloak that hung across the back of the chair. “Continue with it. Admit him to the hospital but escort him to the confidential room deep underneath the hospital. I’m sure he’s all sorts of fucked up.” She spoke while adjusting her cloak. Her anger continued to brew within her even as she walked past her captain. “While he’s there, do not administer any medical attention. I’ll tend to his injuries myself.” A wicked smile swept across pink lips only to expose her devilish pearly white toothy grin. Shinjo will learn what happens with insubordination. The lack of elegance and subtlety that the ANBU and herself took great pride in was being tarnished by her hand picked successor. “He’ll regret growing attached to outsiders, again and again. After that, I’ll make sure he forgets it ever happened.” Mirō brushed past her captain, “Come Quenchin. We’ll rendezvous with Honnou and that little shit within the reeducation room.” An obedient nod from Quenchin followed her words. Tagged behind her the two of them stepped through a reality breaking black doorway the Sennin spun from her red hues. As they stepped through to the other side the black doorway zipped back up and out of reality.

The hospital continued to bustle with injured and sickly people, nurses and mednin who worked their asses off. The Medicial Sennin ran a tight ship and from the looks of her you’d think it would be out of fear. However their dedication radiated purely from them based on Midori’s careful attention to the needs of her staff and subordinates. Yet the smell of cleaning supplies had never been more pungent than now. Medical ninja noticed the staggered fool that dripped blood onto the clean floor. Soft hues looked down at their chart. Hidden behind medical papers was a confidential paper with the profile of Tsukinowa Shinjo. Silently, another ninja appeared beside them and pointed to the boy. “Right this way.” An arm directed them towards an elevator in an eerily deserted hallway. “Last floor. Room specified for your common mug.”

[WC:637]
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Ryuu Tama

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The trip up to the hospital had been an excruciatingly long one. Shin wasn’t sure if it was his paranoia, the anxiety of having been completely thwarted by, what he now assumed, was a member of his military Branch; or if it was the broken arm. The pain was intense now that the buzz of alcohol and adrenaline had finally run its course. Yet there was a bit of serendipity to the pain in the way it was silencing the phantom screaming in his head. Not once on the trek up to the his destination did he see or hear the girl screaming at him and took that as a positive sign.

Entering the hospital hit Shin with that wave of “chemically clean” smell mixed with the impossible to rid of smell that lingered from decay, disease, and death. Oh sure, if you weren’t used to it you’d never smell it. The off oder was subtle like the notes of a bad whiskey; hard to find but there. Not long after stepping in he was greeted by a nurse who recognized him but he didn’t remember. Which wasn’t surprising. His last…two…three? Visits here were a blurry in and out of his psychosis when it was at its worst. Her voice had a bit of distaste in it that shinobi were trained to hear, but her face was purely welcoming. It oddly put him somewhat at ease as it had that quality smile like an accepting mother. The woman’s scrubs, tied up hair, and clean demeanor were all signs of a tightly run ship and she wasted no time in flipping through her pages to find an open room for him; which thankfully there was. The new free health care for Lightning often had this hospital up to its gills in new patients. The clinics in Kumo handled the “normies” of their city for the most part and really only special cases, emergency surgeries, and shinobi health was handled by the hospital; at least so it seemed. It was enough, however, and though rooms were still readily available sometimes the hospital would hit max capacity. Usually during full moons.

The nurse quickly lead Shinjo down into a room way far back from the rest, and he felt his heart starting to quicken. They passed at least three open rooms on the way towards the back, why did he have to be all the way back here? The nurse opened the room up with a simple twist of the door handle and the shinobi simply entered in when told. Days of little to no sleep, alcohol, and a broken limb had done a lot to the swordsman’s brain to a point that it was quite obvious he wasn’t being taken in to be cared for, but it didn’t quite catch on. However, when he stepped in the room and saw a lone chair it quickly dawned on him just what he had gotten himself into. Before he could turn to dart out, the door had already closed and a magnetic lock sealed it shut no matter how much he screamed, begged, and threw himself against the door.

Shinjo knew. This was the end of the line for him.

[MFT]
 

Kagami Miro

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Keen hearing and proper communication let both the ANBU Sennin and those who watched from behind the glass wall know that their misfit had arrived. With no immediate medical attention the boy was at the will of the ANBU Sennin. Broken and battered, his body dared not make sudden movements at the risk of immense pain. As he entered the room the eerie silence would have driven anyone insane. The room had no medical equipment within. The dark green tile that coated the floor hadn’t been cleaned in ages. The purpose of cleaning the blood that dries itself in a vortex around the drain felt like a waste of time. There was always more to spill and painted a great picture for the future of anyone who sat on the chair.

A lone bulb hung from a string from the ceiling which illuminated the lone chair within the center of the room. From the surrounding shadows a black cowboy boot emerged first then slowly the rest of the cloaked figure. Well done nails coiled around the back of the chair while beautiful red hues pierced through the light. It was none other than the ANBU Sennin. A frightening smile painted her lips. Masked behind them laid incredible anger towards her protege. “Tsukinowa Shinjo. My favorite student up until recently.” Her smile faded into a fierce glower. Her hands clasped together forming complex hand movements until the room around her changed. The gravity within grew heavier as if two elephants were stacked on top of each other. This inevitably forced Shinjo to kneel towards his superior. “Each time I get a report from you it’s always no good. Are you trying to make me look bad?” That stare never wavered, her hues instinctively molded into that famous sharingan.

A master at gravity manipulation, Mirō forcibly moved Shinjo’s limp body closer to the chair with a beckon of her finger. Each heavy trudge allowed her to continue her lecture. “You’re a constant reminder why the mentally feeble are exiled from the ANBU. And in your case, there’d be a deep grave looking to embrace you. No sign needed, we forget those types.” She shrugged, giggling at the tomb of a forgotten ninja who defied the codex.

The aura of heavy gravity faded and with ease Mirō lifted her poor student into the chair bolted firmly into the ground. Moments later Shinjo sat upright within the chair restrained on all joints. Calmly the Sennin walked around her student. “However, since I’m such a caring Sennin I’ll grant you one wish. You don’t get to choose, I’ll make the decision to spare you.” She continued to circle him like a buzzard. “Yay! Torture! Torture! Torture!” That voice in her head chimed in, elated to witness the mutilation of someone. Behind him she leaned in, whispering in his ear. “I’ll fix you. All because you’re my student.” Another psychotic giggle slipped past her lips. Her words were true yet another truth hidden within her mind. If rumor spread of a defecto ANBU ninja going awol that cow from the Main Branch would not let it down. Not to mention the stain on her title too. She moved away, circling to the front of Shinjo to face him directly. “Well, what do you have to say for yourself Shinjo? Why are you like this? Why did…” She smiled, showing her pearly white teeth. “You kill your fiancée?”

[WC:570]
 

Honnou

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… He was in grave trouble.

Hon’s purpose was to figure out whether Shinjo had any associations with the warehouse mentioned by Sennin-sama, the one connected to the Bear Country. And he was planning to go there himself to investigate the area personally, due to the fact that Shinjo’s physical condition was in need of assistance. He didn’t know the entire story behind Shinjo and Sennin-sama, but he had worked under her as her protegé and was a valued member of the ANBU trainees... just like he himself used to be back then.

But the conclusion to his mental investigation on Shinjo was undeniable – the boy was out of his mind, unreasonably unpredictable when dealing with any violent hazards, a frequent self-intoxicator and someone highly unsuited for the ranks within the ANBU. Hon knew that Shinjo had drawn unneeded blood, given by what the Sennin had informed him back at the Sileo, but... he didn’t remember any mentions about Shinjo having been engaged. Nor about the revelation that he had killed his own fiancée...

Hon was watching the scene unfold from behind the black glass. Safe to say, he was understandably unprepared for whatever Sennin-sama had in store for the AiT, but at the same time, he was intrigued to learn more about this fiancée of his. The events that had perspired in Shinjo’s life... how did they connect to the latest events? Was there ever a connection to begin with? He needed to know this before visiting the abandoned area...

WC: 251
 

Ryuu Tama

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The door would not budge. No one seemed to be listening to him at all and it was quite clear no one was going to. Shin finally turned away from the door to get a better look at the room he was in. Blood stains on the floor, a single chair, a single light…his blood pressure quickly began to rise to a point he could feel his heart beating in his throat. He had to get out, he had to move before….her voice.

Miro.

The AiT watched in absolute terror as the first thing he saw was those fingers curling over the back of the chair followed by that malicious smile. Without hesitation the teen threw his everything at the door, boosted by a fresh wave of adrenaline, but it was to no avail. Before he could even touch the steel of the exit, gravity doubled and his body crashed to the floor. Instinctively his hands moved under him to absorb some of the impact, only to lead the break in his arm into full destruction as splintered bone pushed past his muscles and threatened to pierce skin. The feeling sent waves of nausea rolling through his entire body and without further provocation, Shinjo vomited up what little sustenance was on his stomach.
Please, don’t do this…I’m sorry, I-

His body was slowly being dragged towards the chair. He could feel his shirt being pulled up with each tug, the grim of the floor mixing in with the cold sweat soaking his flesh. The pain in his arm was enough to send most people into full on shock, but the academy training that helped prevent such a merciful death kicked in and his mind was suddenly way too focused. Once more he tried to push back against the pull, claw at the floor, and scream; another sound that was cut off as he was lifted from the ground like a plaything and slammed into the lone chair.
Miro-san, please,” he begged through sobs as tears began to well up from both pain and terror, “You don’t have to do this, you don-”, his pleads cut off once more as the gravity jutsu nailed his body to the chair. It forced the broken bone back into place, sending another wave of nausea to punch Shin in the gut, but nothing came of the heaving; everything on his stomach was already on the ground.

Cold sweat bathed the boy as his master quietly walked around him. He had no idea what form of torture she was planning. With tools? With more ninjutsu? Genjutsu? How was this person planning on ‘fixing’ him without mentally breaking him to a point of worthlessness? With bated breath he waited until Miro stood before him and asked him the question. A reminder of his worst sin, something he would have rather taken having his fingernails pulled over being asked. At first, all Shinjo could do was scream. The memory of her death was always on the front of his conscious, and her voice haunted him to the point of madness.
Yeah Shinjo, why did you kill me?!” he heard the phantom scream in his ear.

IT WAS AN ACCIDENT,” the boy finally yelled, his body struggling hard to get away from the question, but to no avail. Miro’s power held him firmly in place.
She was my everything, my hope for a normal life, please…I didn’t mean to! The mission said I had to kill her father and any who was attached! She walked in on me killing her father, I didn’t know she was there…before I knew what I had done, reflex had done it for me! PLEASE DON’T DO THIS, IT WAS AN ACCIDENT, I-

His sentence cut off suddenly as the stress of the question and the pain of his arm finally triggered something in his body. With a final scream he started to convulse, a white froth foaming between his lips as his skin became pale as a dead body’s. Shinjo’s mental state was finally melting away completely and his body only choice to stop the torment was to shut down; even if it meant dying.

[mit]
 

Kagami Miro

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The more she circled him the more his frantic pleading led her to wicked intentions. “Silence.” She demanded. A sudden powerful strike marked the boy's face. “If you were truly sorry you wouldn’t have gone against the codex and my teachings.” She looked down at him with utmost disgust. The Sennin towered over him, her plans on traditional torture felt as though they weren’t personal enough. The removal of finger nails, into breaking bones just before they were truly unrepairable. No, those methods were true to her heart. A finger rose to the crook of her lower lip. Suddenly an idea popped into her head. Like a lightswitch, the method she had thought of worked wonders. Even more so than conventional torture.

tomie-01.jpg

Mirō’s black tresses swayed side to side in objection. “An untrained reflex is a weakness. To react instinctively under stress is a double edged sword and yours… my student, sliced through your fiancée.” She continued to hammer in his failures unbeknownst to her that his mind already did that for him. “And why are you screaming for your life? I’m going to help you. Is this how a normal person thanks one's kindness?” Time felt as if it slowed to a stand still. Red hues cut towards the fake wall that hid the onlookers. Her piercing gaze falling onto them. They were able to watch her red hues spin into that deadly final form. Yet over the years the mastery of her Eternal Mangekyou Sharigan harbored no valleys for blood to trail down. 2

Those stunning hues returned back to Shinjo. “I will have my perfect student. Even if I have to create them. Tsukinowa Shinjo. Rest easy from now on, you will become perfect.” Her arms moved to stretch themselves like a hawk. The soft light illuminated her face as the Sennin looked towards the ceiling then at Shinjo. A free hand grabbed a tuft of his hair to force his gaze into her own. Just like the end of his genin exam the boy’s mind became putty in the hands of a master of genjutsu. However, a lesson in discipline needed to be conveyed first before she moved onto her final step.

As his world spun out off course the Sennin’s own face began to scar and bulge outward from her cheek. From the side of her face was a carbon copy of her own with ugly veins and stretched lesions and soulless white hues that glared directly at Shinjo. Was it the evil that Uchiha had that lay dormant within. Before he could utter a word Mirō fell into the floor beneath his feet to disappear from reality. Quickly Shinjo found himself rooted in the chair. Unable to move an inch he had only been allowed to look around. Within seconds the interrogation room shifted seamlessly into a flat plain of red blood that came up to his shins. In the distance a familiar feminine figure appeared in all white. With each step she would multiply into more and more copies of herself. Each with outstretched arms cooing for the warm embrace of him. Only to abruptly stop half way towards him and fall like dominos. Now covered in blood the figures' joints creaked and unhinged themselves. On all fours they crawled rapidly towards him like horrors of the deep with soulless black eyes. Each girl begged him with a sea of “Why?”’s over and over as they surrounded and embraced him. Mirō watched with fascination in her eyes. She wondered just how he would react.

Lovesickness-Junji-Ito-story-feature-image-710x354.jpg


In the outside world Mirō moved back. Away from the upcoming schizo panic attack and into the darkness to observe her work and watch her student fight for his life of rebirth.
 

Honnou

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… Hon had no solid opinion of the situation just yet. Even now, he simply let Sennin-sama do what she needed to do to put Shinjo back on track. She was his close mentor, as far as the Hyūga knew-

*SLAP!*

That… that ought to have hurt. Shit, this felt awkward now… maybe Hon’s assistance wasn’t needed for now. No, maybe Sennin-sama wanted a direct report of his mental investigation on Shinjo afterwards, so he couldn’t do her the disservice and disappear just yet. Deciding against his strong desire to leave the scene, Hon stayed behind the black glass and watched.

As ruthless as Sennin-sama was, she was right. Untrained reflexes could lead to death, either to yourself or to your loved ones like Shinjo’s fiancée. However, she even went as far as to glare into his-

Damn, Hon could tell what she had done immediately. The eye contact, the sudden jolt in Shinjo’s body, the change in his chakra system… she had cast him under a Genjutsu. Only Raiden could save Shinjo from whatever retaliation the Sennin had in store for him… under her Genjutsu, she could manifest any sort of fucked up measure as she saw fit. Knowing how mortally serious Sennin-sama was about this whole ordeal, she likely wasn’t holding back on him just because that he was her student…

Good thing that Hon didn’t train under her.

Obviously, he kept that thought to himself. Still, it was a lot to witness, even for an ANBU Captain – Hon had yet to really gain enough experience working under Kagami Mirō to say that he knew her, but he wanted to help Shinjo. He saw Shinjo as a broken shinobi in front of his eyes, shattered in multiple pieces… but in whole pieces, that was. Like a puzzle. It was possible to bring him back… that was what Hon believed, deep inside…



Hon decided to wait for the Sennin to finish, then request her ear. Perhaps another potential duty for the ANBU Captain.

WC: 335
[MFT]
 

Ryuu Tama

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Those eyes. Even as he felt his body trying to shut down through his seizure, he could feel them bearing down on him, through his near unconscious state. His chest began to heave heavy as his breathing quickened and the frothing of his panic attack ceased when the Genjutsu took hold of his every sense to make him an utter plaything. Shinjo became too aware that he was no longer feeling the pain on his cheek from the slap. He knew when Miro’s face began to transform, that she had him already deep within an illusion of her making, but without his hands to make the seal, breaking it was impossible.

The first part of the illusion hit, and it hit hard. Shin felt steel cables burrow into his flesh before constricting to literally fuse him to the chair. He saw the room melt away until his chair began to sink, slowly, into an endless field of blood that rose up to his ankles. The sky was a solid blue of clear, and a light shined down from nothing. In the distance he saw her. His love. She was walking towards him with hands outstretched and a forgiving face; and it instantly disturbed Shin even as the illusion began to manipulate his emotions. He wanted to feel that embrace one more time, to feel the mercy of her forgiveness before whatever horrible thing he knew Miro had planned. Something in his heart told him he could accept whatever punishment came next if his master just gave him that one touch of empathy before tormenting him endlessly.

However, this was twisted ANBU Sennin he was dealing with. A youth who had to prove her loyalty and ruthlessness time and time again to force an entire branch of the military under her steel grip. Despite her age, no one dared to turn against Miro. Shinjo would soon learn why.

The love of his life copied herself seamlessly. One moment there was one, then three, then six, and so on until a hundred copies of his fiancee were all moving towards the boy with intent to hug, their feet sloshing the blood with each step into a viscous froth around their ankles. Halfway between where she started, and where Shinjo was strapped to a chair, they all began to twist in horrible ways. Necks snapped, arms and legs folded the wrong ways as if some cruel creator was bending them all to death like simple meat puppets. For the second time, times a hundred, the AiT was forced to watch his lover die. Then at the speed of horror they all came rushing him with their broken forms, crawling at him with impossible swiftness. The boy screamed and tried to pull himself away from the rooted chair only to find his flesh tearing with each attempt. Before he could even begin to muster the willpower to tear his flesh away from the chair, they were all upon him asking that same question the ghost of his mental break had asked him now for years; “why?”
The smooth but broken hands touched his clothing and ripped it away until his was stripped of everything. The air was surprisingly cold for a brief second before he felt the first hand claw its way into his upper groin causing the teen to scream more than just in horror; screams that were quickly cut off as an uncountable amount of hands began to shove their way into his mouth. He felt the ghouls pull out his intestinal tract from the first wound, felt the hands gripping the back of his throat to choke him, felt them dig in and tear out his flesh, his innards, his heart, until it was held dripping over his eyes to blind him in a world of red.

The pain was unimaginable, and in the world of reality the horror was so intense his hair quickly all shocked white as he continued to seize. Then, clump by clump, it began to fall out as he struggled against the binds of gravity placed on his body until it began to tear. Blood dripped from the seat's arms and onto the floor to slowly drain into the nearby hole. Shinjo’s eyes changed into his dojutsu without any provocation, and just like the Uchiha bloodline he was cousins with, the shape transformed when placed under an extreme conflict. From circles that resembled a target on a field of black sclera, it spun and expanded until the pupil overtook the entire thing. From the center of the enlarged pupil a small white pinprick revealed itself until it took over the entirety of his ocular with erupt speeds. Shinjo had only one wish that tore through everything, and that was to be removed from this pain and torment completely. Within the pure white, pupiless eyes, an strange seal drew itself. It was as if the eye was such a mutation of the original Sharingan that when its second stage was reached, its power had yet to be written until the boy commanded it.

To remove himself from this world, this life, this existence.

The original power of the eyes he had was to remove bits of his soul with chakra and turn it into weapons. With the newfound power doubling the strength of that basic ability, he removed his entire soul from his body, causing his chakra to spill out and fill the entire room. His mind broke the Genjutsu by not having a passenger anymore, and his body dropped limp against the struggles before the entire scene shattered like glass and his soul carried on through an erupt darkness. Shin closed his eyes against the rush. When he opened them again he found himself on a field, with a warmth pressed against him. He was laying down in grass, and when he looked, he found his fiancee holding him tight. At his side was a sword, and he sat up suddenly as if jolted.
“Shinjo…?” she asked as he looked around. Was he dead and in heaven? Did he even deserve such a thing?
I-
His reply was interrupted as that scene broke, shattered like glass to return to darkness as felt his body drawn again into another scene where he was behind a desk. He could feel himself breathing from behind the mask of an ANBU operative as he looked down at three other same agents bowing and waiting for commands. Before he could speak the scene once again shattered.

Over and over again Shinjo was called across time and space to live for scant seconds in the lives that could have been. For eternities he witnessed every last life he could have had if he had just made a different choice or had been born under a different circumstance. A rouge warrior who fought against Tenouza for love. A farmer. An ANBU Captain. The ultimate weapon Tenouza was trying to create. A life that had ended before it had began. A homeless man on the edge of ending it all. All of the chaos of everything that could have been nearly tore him away from what he was and where he originally came from until in the depth of that darkness he came face to face with a mirror. Inside that mirror was an extravagant, perfect form of himself.
Amazing isn’t it?” it spoke, “So many lives you could have had and the one that breaks free of the tyranny of Fate is the one that suffered the hardest.
Shinjo tried to speak, but found that his words were absorbed by the empty vacuum he wondered through. The mirror imagine continued as if nothing was said,
…but your suffering is far from over. Into the future you must go without knowing who you are, only what you are, and in that way you must stay. If you are to regain anything of your past, if you wish to obtain it at all…you must learn to control your power. It will take longer than you think, and it’ll be the easiest thing you’ve ever done…and the hardest. Good luck, me, I look forward to seeing if you can achieve the Perfect Form without the hubris of your humanity weighing you down like it does the others who have broken from Fate’s shackles…

Shinjo blinked. The black space was gone, his eyes had returned to normal, and he just sat there in the chair struck dumb. He didn’t know who or what he was, what was going on, or why. Just that his body, his eyes, and his mind hurt; and that his head was freezing. He didn’t recall a name, a past, or that he even existed until now. The eternity spent exploring the infinite timelines happened in seconds, and no one but those with the eyes to see his chakra fill the room would even know what happened - only that something did.
 
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Kagami Miro

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The suffrage of those who committed sins would meet their benevolent justice. May it be in heaven or hell or locked within the confines of a metal chair in Kumogakure. The power behind her own hues spun a complex and life altering scenario for her poor little student. His will would be test but more importantly the memory of that failed mission would change. For that is what ailed him and drove him down the path of a petty thief. “Pitiful.” Mirō whispered. Black tresses shook side to side in disappointment.

As she watched his life and memories unfold she had carefully picked and pulled apart his troublesome memories. That damn girl who interrupted his work held the root of Shinjo’s insanity. With a few alterations and mastery of genjutsu Mirō had been successful. Like a surgeon she cut away the tumor that plagued Shinjo to leave him with the memory of a successful mission and an angel that died peacefully however untimely. It was over before he knew it–

“What the hell?” Mirō whispered in shock. The Sennins vision within the genjutsu had faded. A tell tale sign. Shinjo’s body had given out and fallen limp. He died. Mirō held her breath, had she tormented him too much? Was the memory of his beloved murder the thin vein that maintained his will to carry on, even if it meant a destructive spiral into insanity. Red optics angrily glared at the boy's pathetically limp body. ‘All of that, just to die a failed prodigy.’ Disgusted stained her words. Mirō had such high hopes for her hand picked prodigy. That red aura of hatred and anger that consumed his figure when they first met led her to believe in a promising future. Had she been wrong again?

Before her very eyes the room filled with a vibrant display of chakra again. An incredible aura that surrounded Shinjo once again but this time hatred, anger and pain were not found. On the flip side, happiness, pride and confidence hadn’t made an appearance. The vivid display remained for a few moments before it condensed around Shinjo, only to fade subtly. Mirō’s hue cut to the one way mirror. If she had seen it, Hon must’ve too.

Without fear Mirō approached her student. Relieved to see his eyes blink open, his muscles begin to shift and pulse alive with blood. “Welcome back. Tsukinowa Shinjo. How do you feel?” She wondered how he would see the woman who killed him.
 

Ryuu Tama

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The youth in the chair looked around the room unknowing anything that was going on. All he felt was cold from the sudden lack of hair. When Miro approached him and spoke his name he felt a jolt in his head that made him cry out in pain and grab it.
….Shinjo. My name…

That’s right. He was Tsukinowa Shinjo. A proud member of the ANBU Corps, a…member of the village. His head was like tv static. He could recall bits and pieces about his life but nothing significant. He was a shinobi, brought here as a child like everyone else. He had talent that was being molded by the woman before him to create a perfect weapon. His family was…dead? They had died tragically in the last war. To make them proud he had focused doubly on becoming the perfect soldier to assist in the rebuilding of the country and taking out fiends and miscreants everywhere that it was needed. Yet…that felt like it was right, but without nuance. Something was wrong but when he tried to think harder on it, he felt a spike of pain in his head and anxiety rolling through his body. He shook a little.

I…I think, I want a cigarette,” was his response to his master. Something in his body craved for something to relax him and although this had once been alcohol the ANBU Sennin fixed that bad habit by replacing it with a slightly less bad habit. At least this one didn’t impair his senses and cause him to blow incredibly important missions. Shinjo had never even been much of a smoker either, just one every now and again while he was drinking and never any other time. Yet his need for something to take away the edge that his brain was on was nearly overwhelming. He could feel the holes in his memory slowly being filled with the false memories the Uchiha had fed him, but without knowing it. As far as he knew he had been poisoned badly on his last mission from trying to drink alcohol undercover. It had made him erratic and most of it was a big blank except for the image of Hon stopping him and saving the fellow operative along with the people Shinjo had been around. He owed the man with the shiny eyes a deep favor for saving him from such dishonor.

I guess the poison removal was successful…
 

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