The crisp stormy air swirled around the buildings, some of the force pushing against the older architecture with warning. The stormy season was upon them and black clouds rolled over Konoha for days at a time before finally clearing a little. Cold air blew in from the southern seas to signal the changing seasons while most of the trees that weren’t evergreens began to show hues of reds and orange. It was a normal year, with little more than the extra storms being anything different from any year before…but, for Otami, the entire experience was still novel.
She sat on a small stool next to the guardrail protecting people from falling off the third story balcony. She was leaning on the wooden guard, arms crossed under her chin as she stared off into the distance in small awe of the world changing around her. A cigarette hung from her lips, burning but barely being dragged on as the Wildling’s eyes shifted around to catch each orange and red leaf on the wind. They swirled in fantastic change like the whirlpool of knowledge was doing to her head.
Beside her was a little glass end-table that held a stone ashtray and a little black book made from human skin. Every now and then her eyes would dart from the natural wonders of the season changing back to that book. She was trying to resist continuing to pour the knowledge left by her dad onto her brain again; what she had done already was already affecting the girl.
Cigarettes were a sign of this. The chemicals inside, activated by heat and consumed by her lungs, were one of the only things that seemed to calm the chaos of her mind lately. Which, wasn’t any different from most of the medical staff she worked with - if her reasons were somewhat different. The chaos they tried to calm was wrestling with the mortality of man; the kind she attempted to assuage was a beast of truth roaring at her fragile reality.
Otami’s hand reached up to snatch the ciggy out of her mouth with two fingers before crushing the ember against the stone ashtray. She needed to do something. The lifestyle of waking up, reading a little of Tama’s journal, going to work, coming home, and starting all over again had grown old. Sleep was nearly optional for her now with the way she had reorganized her chakra flows and that in of itself was becoming a fallacy. Sure, she could refresh her brain on a whim to keep from fatigue but, it still frayed her sanity. Today was day 4 of sleepless nights and the nurse had finally slammed against a wall.
With a sudden hop, the Wildling lifted from her stool to pad barefoot back into the little apartment to get changed into something a little more social. Large purple sweatshirt, jean shorts, and a pair of worn in sports shoes; though the latter she only wore because the clubs here were strict about that footwear. Otherwise? Girl would happily pad around with barefeet wherever she went. Quick as a breeze, Otami slipped through her door, shut, and locked it before nearly skipping down to the edge of the walkway and hopping off towards the streets below.
She landed on the ground as if she had only hopped down a few inches, barely a bend to her knee before striding on. It was already starting to turn dark from the looming storm overhead, causing the neon lights to begin flickering with life. Her feet moved from the apartments to the entertainment district with earnest skipping before rounding a corner to take her down some back streets.
Konoha wasn’t a place known for its troubles. There was criminals, have no doubts there. Where people gathered, so do villains. However under the leadership of Hokage Nao, the seedier places in town had started to become a little more palpable to those looking for a wilder side without a high chance to also get stabbed. There was still a chance, but waaaaaaay, smaller. Not that it mattered much for Otami’s case. As the bubbly blond skipped down stairs deeper into the older parts of Konoha’s entertainment distirct the locals seemed to avoid her. She would appear, a beacon of light in the dark neon, and some of the dwellers sitting outside the gambling dens would scatter.
Recently, the happy-go-lucky youth learned she did not do well with gambling. Okay, so, she was actually really good, at it because luck followed her every move it seemed. What she didn’t take well to were the inevitable cheats who had tried swindling her out of some really hard-earned party yen. In a single hour, she had cleared the entire gambling house of every single illicit gambler trying to take cash off of desperate people; nor was she nice about it. Of the twenty or so people to get a taste of her wrath, only about five were still able to walk.
So when the Wilding appeared in a blinding radiance of sun and positivity on her favorite street to go have fun on, a great deal of the human cockroaches that took up residence during her absence outright picked up shop and booked it. It illicited a giggle from the tall girl before she slipped into a majong parlor.
The house was packed. Three red walls centered out the main gambling tables that were already mostly filled with a rainbow of people. Through her shades she saw fellow nurses, at least two doctors, a gate-watch captain, some badly disguised ANBU, and a spattering of ner-do-wells that made her oddly feel at home. A lady in a tight pink dress with a long slit up both thighs stopped with a golden tray and held up a drink to catch Otami’s attention.
“Ooh, spicy,” the nurse said in thanks before snatching the drink without a second guess to sip at it. A mojito. Good muddle on the peppermint with just a trace of illicit drugs in the background. Two minutes in the den and someone already trying to spike her drink. She continued to sip on it without missing a beat and kept open eyes to look for reactions before happily making her way to mojong table short a player.
[MFT
She sat on a small stool next to the guardrail protecting people from falling off the third story balcony. She was leaning on the wooden guard, arms crossed under her chin as she stared off into the distance in small awe of the world changing around her. A cigarette hung from her lips, burning but barely being dragged on as the Wildling’s eyes shifted around to catch each orange and red leaf on the wind. They swirled in fantastic change like the whirlpool of knowledge was doing to her head.
Beside her was a little glass end-table that held a stone ashtray and a little black book made from human skin. Every now and then her eyes would dart from the natural wonders of the season changing back to that book. She was trying to resist continuing to pour the knowledge left by her dad onto her brain again; what she had done already was already affecting the girl.
Cigarettes were a sign of this. The chemicals inside, activated by heat and consumed by her lungs, were one of the only things that seemed to calm the chaos of her mind lately. Which, wasn’t any different from most of the medical staff she worked with - if her reasons were somewhat different. The chaos they tried to calm was wrestling with the mortality of man; the kind she attempted to assuage was a beast of truth roaring at her fragile reality.
Otami’s hand reached up to snatch the ciggy out of her mouth with two fingers before crushing the ember against the stone ashtray. She needed to do something. The lifestyle of waking up, reading a little of Tama’s journal, going to work, coming home, and starting all over again had grown old. Sleep was nearly optional for her now with the way she had reorganized her chakra flows and that in of itself was becoming a fallacy. Sure, she could refresh her brain on a whim to keep from fatigue but, it still frayed her sanity. Today was day 4 of sleepless nights and the nurse had finally slammed against a wall.
With a sudden hop, the Wildling lifted from her stool to pad barefoot back into the little apartment to get changed into something a little more social. Large purple sweatshirt, jean shorts, and a pair of worn in sports shoes; though the latter she only wore because the clubs here were strict about that footwear. Otherwise? Girl would happily pad around with barefeet wherever she went. Quick as a breeze, Otami slipped through her door, shut, and locked it before nearly skipping down to the edge of the walkway and hopping off towards the streets below.
She landed on the ground as if she had only hopped down a few inches, barely a bend to her knee before striding on. It was already starting to turn dark from the looming storm overhead, causing the neon lights to begin flickering with life. Her feet moved from the apartments to the entertainment district with earnest skipping before rounding a corner to take her down some back streets.
Konoha wasn’t a place known for its troubles. There was criminals, have no doubts there. Where people gathered, so do villains. However under the leadership of Hokage Nao, the seedier places in town had started to become a little more palpable to those looking for a wilder side without a high chance to also get stabbed. There was still a chance, but waaaaaaay, smaller. Not that it mattered much for Otami’s case. As the bubbly blond skipped down stairs deeper into the older parts of Konoha’s entertainment distirct the locals seemed to avoid her. She would appear, a beacon of light in the dark neon, and some of the dwellers sitting outside the gambling dens would scatter.
Recently, the happy-go-lucky youth learned she did not do well with gambling. Okay, so, she was actually really good, at it because luck followed her every move it seemed. What she didn’t take well to were the inevitable cheats who had tried swindling her out of some really hard-earned party yen. In a single hour, she had cleared the entire gambling house of every single illicit gambler trying to take cash off of desperate people; nor was she nice about it. Of the twenty or so people to get a taste of her wrath, only about five were still able to walk.
So when the Wilding appeared in a blinding radiance of sun and positivity on her favorite street to go have fun on, a great deal of the human cockroaches that took up residence during her absence outright picked up shop and booked it. It illicited a giggle from the tall girl before she slipped into a majong parlor.
The house was packed. Three red walls centered out the main gambling tables that were already mostly filled with a rainbow of people. Through her shades she saw fellow nurses, at least two doctors, a gate-watch captain, some badly disguised ANBU, and a spattering of ner-do-wells that made her oddly feel at home. A lady in a tight pink dress with a long slit up both thighs stopped with a golden tray and held up a drink to catch Otami’s attention.
“Ooh, spicy,” the nurse said in thanks before snatching the drink without a second guess to sip at it. A mojito. Good muddle on the peppermint with just a trace of illicit drugs in the background. Two minutes in the den and someone already trying to spike her drink. She continued to sip on it without missing a beat and kept open eyes to look for reactions before happily making her way to mojong table short a player.
[MFT
