So can you, like, give me Chuunin stats? I swear I was B-Rank years ago (as Obito Taiki up until a few revives later), but I forget pretty much everything about my old account. Okay, thanks 
Name: Omoi Tetsu
Age: 14
Weight: 160 lbs
Height: 176 cm
Blood Type: B-
Bloodline: Hashigaki
Physical Description:
Out of place seemed to be the most apt and succinct way to describe Tetsu. At 176 cm, he was ever so slightly too tall for his age, and at 14, certainly too old to be registering in the academy, and a giant among his peers. In the early days of an uncomfortable growth spurt, the boy's every movement seemed softly tinged with a kind of forcefulness that made it look as though he was piloting his oversized body, rather than simply living in it comfortably. He would slouch, trying to squeeze himself inward into a smaller space. He didn't otherwise look apparently as though he was shrinking from view, only that something about him seemed amiss. Awkward. As though he was simultaneously trying to make himself smaller while disguising the attempt.
Short shocks of black hair were kept parted from the stoic expression that had become a permanent fixture of his still-boyish face; it almost gave the impression that Tetsu was well put together, tidy, careful. That caveat, almost, seemed to persistently follow him, however. He had no strict sense of fashion to adhere to, but rather, he'd give the most dedicated attention to the state of the clothing he had available on any given day. The shirt that only had a single, small hole, say, in it's lower back, could be tolerated, so long as that hole was still relatively easy to cover; permanent sweat stains were occasionally acceptable, so long as the boy remembered to keep his arms down that day. These were the hand-me-downs of hand-me-downs, and Tetsu wore them as a kind of sentence, a term of his duty. They brought with them a kind of slow urgency for the boy to return to doing nothing and escaping notice in those brief moments he was pulled from his quiet rigidity by the world around him.
Mental Description:
He didn't know why, but he could feel something tightening around his heart, slowly, year by year, like a snake.
Fairly bright, Tetsu still routinely had difficulty absorbing topics in any kind of effective or timely manner. He was, for lack of a better word, the opposite of talented. When it came, that fog that would infect his focus, he would find himself peering closer and closer into the person trying to capture it, finding the sweat droplets palpitating on their quivering skin, their pores opening and closing to breathe in the air from a massive swathe of living skin. The person would start seeming like a kind of host, an organism that had managed to take over that mass of flesh and sweat and blood and guts he found himself staring at with a hypnotic devotion. It wasn't disgust that he felt, not exactly, but something close to it. A little bit longer, if he couldn't break free from the feeling of the unfamiliar present; like an invader, the thought of ripping that mass of skin to pieces would slowly seep into the edges of his consciousness. When it subsided and calm returned to him, Tetsu could at least find some solace in the fact that his life was, essentially, good. He just wanted to scream and never stop.
He could see the growing ambitions of the people around him; the need to make their family proud, to impress their village, and maybe, just maybe, imprint their name on the minds of those across the oceans and borders of the small world they all lived in. Tetsu tried, but he couldn't force himself to feel what they all apparently had; the drive to carry on some kind of meaningful memory into the future. All he had was the urgent need to make one more small step forward, for as long as he could, while the oxygen seemed to thin around him, the blotted out edges of his vision seeming to get smaller each day, to a point of light flickering in and out of darkness. Catharsis alone would save him, he seemed sure of it, from the bottom of his soul. Life for him was good though, the days were easy. Nothing to report.
History:
Tetsu's father, Omoi Goro, was a blacksmith, and not a very good one, and everyone knew it. They lived in a small cabin on the side of a mountain, overlooking the forest. Goro knew his work was mediocre, but prided himself on being a blacksmith for all seasons, and by that, he meant, of course, that during surges of anger and vengeance and war that would see the countryside swept of it's nobler farmers and tradesmen, Goro would be right there to pick up the slack. "Hillbillies with knives, out on fool's errands." He would call them, and vocally too; these men who thought they could retire for years and years from combat and still convince themselves they were fit for it because the occasion had called for violence, men who would periodically rid the countryside of their convictions. What remained was undertrained and fatherless teenagers or children, swinging around a hammer like the offspring of fools they were.
Ryuichi, Tetsu's soon-to-be older brother, remembered this time as a moment of pure bliss, his very first memories forged by the rolling in of the evening tide along the shores below their home just before night, and constantly traveling out to gather rice with his father from the local market, or wading through rocky fields sloped against the coming sunrises. And later, when he was a little older, running to his distant neighbours with some of his childhood friends; they would distract their neighbours while Ryuichi searched for all the places the farmer's chickens might have hidden some of their eggs. Goro had gradually convinced his wife, Junichi, to live frugally even during those seasons that his business was thriving. 'This was' he assured her, [/i]'the only way they could survive in times when his shop once again fell out of public favour.'[/i]
She agreed with him, of course; 'she loved him', she would tell him during the days he tried, as well as he could, to convince her to leave him. What started as debts that suddenly, from under that tide of good will, could not be repaid, ended as a type of irreversible change of personality for the two of them. Junichi began pleading that her last dime for rice or wheat would be spent repaying her debt for last week's groceries, or tavern tab, or new and leased outfits for her son's first day of school. Goro, meanwhile, had resorted to a number of clever, if only minor, money saving scams. Often, he'd go to the market to buy a replacement for something that had fallen apart; a cracked pot, or radio, or worn anvil, and then, in the near future, make a large scene as he tried to return a clearly more worn version of the tool. Those in the village who didn't greet them with a suspicious eye and a tightened fist, were regarded, themselves, as being as foolish as the brave blacksmiths and farmers Goro was always going on about.
A perfect little domestic life, crystallized forever in Ryuichi's young memory, but it couldn't last.
For some reason, lost in the darkness of Ryuichi's ever retreating childhood memories, he remembered, on a visceral level, that what had happened had been the result of sweet buns. It wasn't that he didn't know in that rational part of his brain that those sweet buns had run out days prior to the argument. Those tasty and once a month donated treats, had given way to a diet of rice alone, and spices, for several days, maybe a week, before their next real meal. Ryuichi felt like he couldn't take it any more. His stomach was actually cramping tightly with hunger. He even got his hands on an apple during one of those days of fasting and had become shocked and scared as it gave him an even worse pain in his stomach, one that seemed to last, sharply, for an entire hour. His mother, Junichi, then, at the peak of his misery and without warning or announcement, came in early one morning before Ryuichi had woken, stirring him out of unconsciousness with the morning light from the doorway and the smell of cooked chicken as the blur that was his smiling mother came into view, out from the light of the morning.
Ryuichi got straight to work, doing the best he could to prepare dinner, and the table to eat it from. He couldn't hear what Junichi and his father were saying to each other, but what started as rapid processions of whispers soon rose to words squeaked out in voices that would be funny, if the faces of the two hadn't made it so enigmatically terrifying. His father looked into Ryuichi's eyes and gently took the woman by the elbow into the yard, where their voices turned to shouts. The boy turned the water pressure up to wash the dishes and made a kind of sound in his head that was very close to being a complete absence of sound, as though he could drown his parents out with a deafening silence. No one had dinner that night, and less than a year later, Tetsu was brought into this quiet little countryside world.
Junichi began complaining of regular and overwhelming headaches. Dark rings would routinely dig their ways in the depths of her eyelids, seemingly regardless of the amount of sleep she actually got. She began becoming tyrannical about the noises of the creeping children at night, or any time before the sun wasn't directly overhead. The slightest breath, off-pace, seemed to be capable of waking her; one creak in the floor, a kicked toy, anything, could set her into a sudden waking fury and terror, and as soon as either of the boys had heard the error of their own ways, they would freeze, their adrenaline suddenly pumping. They would be made to stand still, in the middle of the room for hours, until she fell back asleep; the only mercy they could hope for was possibly being allowed to finish what they had gotten up for, be it a glass of water or to use the washroom.
Bloodline Application:
It wasn't long before Ryuichi would leave Tetsu alone. Junichi could anticipate the moment coming for years, and it brought her a terrible amount of anxiety. The Omoi family would spend the last days of that Summer, before Ryuichi had started apprenticing under his father, out on the coast of the lightning country, Tetsu blowing bubbles along the water with his mother as Goro explained to Ryuichi the unique dangers that existed in all the forests that were close enough to see from the shoreline. When it ended and Ryuichi was gone, Junichi took Tetsu gently by his shoulders, and told her son that she wanted a better life for him, and that he wouldn't be the same man his father was. She began wanting to pass on everything she was able to learn in mathematics and science, learned back when she lived in the heart of the village, to her son. She began imagining him one day consulting the Tsuchikage, or as the Jounin in charge of supplies for Lightning Country's armory. The only obstacle seemed to be that the boy seemed incapable of learning anything at any reasonable sort of pace.
Junichi had really meant what she said, and at first, even Tetsu could see her try, as hard as she possibly could, it seemed, to resist that slow slide backwards into old habits. She would start cracking his knuckle with a thin piece of wood she kept handy at the side of the boy's desk when he would periodically, and without fail, lose track of the pattern of thought he needed to follow to bring himself to the answers for his daily homework. Tetsu and Ryuichi used to compete to see who could get away with the most breeches to their mother's daily increasing list of disobediences that would see either one of them standing for hours to listen to her fury-filled rants. It was used as a punishment rather than a mechanism for complaints. Back then, the two had been fearless in the depths they would go to to incite her temper, but with Ryuichi now gone, the disobedience seemed hollow, and oppressive.
Tetsu had wanted to listen, to follow her pointing finger along the school books she had sacrificed so much to get her hands on. He wanted to, but could feel that lapse of attention waning on the horizon, and soon, and inevitably after that, the words would lose their focus, Tetsu seeming unable to even move his pupils, as if they were frozen in place. He knew if he couldn't break this spell in time, his mother would notice, and this had the effect of actually reducing the pace of his thoughts; to the point that he spent the final half of this moment of bliss preparing for what would then be inevitably on it's way. "You know what?" his mother suddenly barked at him, grabbing him by his arm, "If you're too stubborn to listen, you can stand out and think about whether you'd like to learn, or live like an animal."
He had taken to sleeping in the bathtub over the last several months, despite his mother's embarrassed berating when she found him, curled up like an infant. In Tetsu's mind, it was simple; the one bit of reality he could control beyond expectations was within his grasp; it was, almost, the difference between breathing and not breathing. As she tugged the boy out into the yard, a question, clinging to the back of his mind started clawing it's way gently along his subconscious, 'Why did she start taking me outside when I used to stand in the middle of the house?' It rolled along the flowing undulations of a quiet clamor of voices yelling up from the recesses of his memories and sense of the past. He knew, in the bowels of his soul, that it wasn't so that he wouldn't know when she had her eyes on him, and when he could get away with a momentary slouching to recover from his long and still-standing position. 'Hurry up! I don't have all day to wait for you to drag your feet!" Her anger was rising, and she jerked the boy's arm, hard. He knew something he couldn't quite articulate; that the reason the two of them were walking to a small spot out in the field for him to stand in, was because Junichi didn't want to have to look at her son. "Why don't you go fuck yourself?" Tetsu said, a whisper at first, but rising in a few short words to an awkward and shaking scream. He did not want to say it, the thought wasn't even in his head. It seemed to manifest from some physical part inside of himself, in his throat or stomach, and released as if against his own will and knowledge; but as soon as the words were given oxygen, they filled him with a boldness he had never felt in himself before.
Junichi shook Tetsu by his shoulders to make him look at her, even though he was already staring into her eyes, a glimmer of light she couldn't yet understand now igniting his gaze, "What did you say to me?!" She seemed uncertain at first, as if asking the question she almost choked on would solidify Tetsu's words into the fabric of reality, and Tetsu could see Junichi rapidly searching her own mind, trying to find some way that the boy might not have said what he had, in fact, said. "I said, YOU CAN GO FUCK YOURSELF!" The words poured out in a desperate shriek, the edges of his vision giving way to blackness, and were followed immediately by the woman grabbing and shaking the boy's jaw, "Listen to me!.." Junichi tried to begin, but was interrupted by Tetsu brushing her hand off of him and responding with "Don't touch me." So that when she came back and pressed her finger into his face, she couldn't seem to help but blurt out, "Do you wonder why your brother went to work for your dad and you didn't? He doesn't want to see you, you were a mistake. You belong to no one." She stormed away a few steps in a deafened fury, before Tetsu grabbed her by her elbow, swinging her around to punch her squarely in the cheek.
Junichi lay completely still on the rocky path for about eight seconds, unconscious, before springing to life and running in terror for her home, locking the door behind her. Not that it would have made any difference. Tetsu stood paralyzed in place until the necessary number of hours passed for his father to return home. The next day, when Tetsu had gone to the local Academy to apply, his father, catching wind of it, raced to apologize for his son's embarrassing and sudden appearance. Voices from a million miles away seemed to take some kind of pity on him though, as words that he couldn't quite hear, from faces he couldn't exactly see, seemed to be bargaining for his release, and before the day was done, he was registered. He was finally alone, and happy.
P.S. I have a single saved training post e-mail, timestamped from 2009, that could at least prove that I am an ancient player here...
Name: Omoi Tetsu
Age: 14
Weight: 160 lbs
Height: 176 cm
Blood Type: B-
Bloodline: Hashigaki
Physical Description:
Out of place seemed to be the most apt and succinct way to describe Tetsu. At 176 cm, he was ever so slightly too tall for his age, and at 14, certainly too old to be registering in the academy, and a giant among his peers. In the early days of an uncomfortable growth spurt, the boy's every movement seemed softly tinged with a kind of forcefulness that made it look as though he was piloting his oversized body, rather than simply living in it comfortably. He would slouch, trying to squeeze himself inward into a smaller space. He didn't otherwise look apparently as though he was shrinking from view, only that something about him seemed amiss. Awkward. As though he was simultaneously trying to make himself smaller while disguising the attempt.
Short shocks of black hair were kept parted from the stoic expression that had become a permanent fixture of his still-boyish face; it almost gave the impression that Tetsu was well put together, tidy, careful. That caveat, almost, seemed to persistently follow him, however. He had no strict sense of fashion to adhere to, but rather, he'd give the most dedicated attention to the state of the clothing he had available on any given day. The shirt that only had a single, small hole, say, in it's lower back, could be tolerated, so long as that hole was still relatively easy to cover; permanent sweat stains were occasionally acceptable, so long as the boy remembered to keep his arms down that day. These were the hand-me-downs of hand-me-downs, and Tetsu wore them as a kind of sentence, a term of his duty. They brought with them a kind of slow urgency for the boy to return to doing nothing and escaping notice in those brief moments he was pulled from his quiet rigidity by the world around him.
Mental Description:
He didn't know why, but he could feel something tightening around his heart, slowly, year by year, like a snake.
Fairly bright, Tetsu still routinely had difficulty absorbing topics in any kind of effective or timely manner. He was, for lack of a better word, the opposite of talented. When it came, that fog that would infect his focus, he would find himself peering closer and closer into the person trying to capture it, finding the sweat droplets palpitating on their quivering skin, their pores opening and closing to breathe in the air from a massive swathe of living skin. The person would start seeming like a kind of host, an organism that had managed to take over that mass of flesh and sweat and blood and guts he found himself staring at with a hypnotic devotion. It wasn't disgust that he felt, not exactly, but something close to it. A little bit longer, if he couldn't break free from the feeling of the unfamiliar present; like an invader, the thought of ripping that mass of skin to pieces would slowly seep into the edges of his consciousness. When it subsided and calm returned to him, Tetsu could at least find some solace in the fact that his life was, essentially, good. He just wanted to scream and never stop.
He could see the growing ambitions of the people around him; the need to make their family proud, to impress their village, and maybe, just maybe, imprint their name on the minds of those across the oceans and borders of the small world they all lived in. Tetsu tried, but he couldn't force himself to feel what they all apparently had; the drive to carry on some kind of meaningful memory into the future. All he had was the urgent need to make one more small step forward, for as long as he could, while the oxygen seemed to thin around him, the blotted out edges of his vision seeming to get smaller each day, to a point of light flickering in and out of darkness. Catharsis alone would save him, he seemed sure of it, from the bottom of his soul. Life for him was good though, the days were easy. Nothing to report.
History:
Tetsu's father, Omoi Goro, was a blacksmith, and not a very good one, and everyone knew it. They lived in a small cabin on the side of a mountain, overlooking the forest. Goro knew his work was mediocre, but prided himself on being a blacksmith for all seasons, and by that, he meant, of course, that during surges of anger and vengeance and war that would see the countryside swept of it's nobler farmers and tradesmen, Goro would be right there to pick up the slack. "Hillbillies with knives, out on fool's errands." He would call them, and vocally too; these men who thought they could retire for years and years from combat and still convince themselves they were fit for it because the occasion had called for violence, men who would periodically rid the countryside of their convictions. What remained was undertrained and fatherless teenagers or children, swinging around a hammer like the offspring of fools they were.
Ryuichi, Tetsu's soon-to-be older brother, remembered this time as a moment of pure bliss, his very first memories forged by the rolling in of the evening tide along the shores below their home just before night, and constantly traveling out to gather rice with his father from the local market, or wading through rocky fields sloped against the coming sunrises. And later, when he was a little older, running to his distant neighbours with some of his childhood friends; they would distract their neighbours while Ryuichi searched for all the places the farmer's chickens might have hidden some of their eggs. Goro had gradually convinced his wife, Junichi, to live frugally even during those seasons that his business was thriving. 'This was' he assured her, [/i]'the only way they could survive in times when his shop once again fell out of public favour.'[/i]
She agreed with him, of course; 'she loved him', she would tell him during the days he tried, as well as he could, to convince her to leave him. What started as debts that suddenly, from under that tide of good will, could not be repaid, ended as a type of irreversible change of personality for the two of them. Junichi began pleading that her last dime for rice or wheat would be spent repaying her debt for last week's groceries, or tavern tab, or new and leased outfits for her son's first day of school. Goro, meanwhile, had resorted to a number of clever, if only minor, money saving scams. Often, he'd go to the market to buy a replacement for something that had fallen apart; a cracked pot, or radio, or worn anvil, and then, in the near future, make a large scene as he tried to return a clearly more worn version of the tool. Those in the village who didn't greet them with a suspicious eye and a tightened fist, were regarded, themselves, as being as foolish as the brave blacksmiths and farmers Goro was always going on about.
A perfect little domestic life, crystallized forever in Ryuichi's young memory, but it couldn't last.
For some reason, lost in the darkness of Ryuichi's ever retreating childhood memories, he remembered, on a visceral level, that what had happened had been the result of sweet buns. It wasn't that he didn't know in that rational part of his brain that those sweet buns had run out days prior to the argument. Those tasty and once a month donated treats, had given way to a diet of rice alone, and spices, for several days, maybe a week, before their next real meal. Ryuichi felt like he couldn't take it any more. His stomach was actually cramping tightly with hunger. He even got his hands on an apple during one of those days of fasting and had become shocked and scared as it gave him an even worse pain in his stomach, one that seemed to last, sharply, for an entire hour. His mother, Junichi, then, at the peak of his misery and without warning or announcement, came in early one morning before Ryuichi had woken, stirring him out of unconsciousness with the morning light from the doorway and the smell of cooked chicken as the blur that was his smiling mother came into view, out from the light of the morning.
Ryuichi got straight to work, doing the best he could to prepare dinner, and the table to eat it from. He couldn't hear what Junichi and his father were saying to each other, but what started as rapid processions of whispers soon rose to words squeaked out in voices that would be funny, if the faces of the two hadn't made it so enigmatically terrifying. His father looked into Ryuichi's eyes and gently took the woman by the elbow into the yard, where their voices turned to shouts. The boy turned the water pressure up to wash the dishes and made a kind of sound in his head that was very close to being a complete absence of sound, as though he could drown his parents out with a deafening silence. No one had dinner that night, and less than a year later, Tetsu was brought into this quiet little countryside world.
Junichi began complaining of regular and overwhelming headaches. Dark rings would routinely dig their ways in the depths of her eyelids, seemingly regardless of the amount of sleep she actually got. She began becoming tyrannical about the noises of the creeping children at night, or any time before the sun wasn't directly overhead. The slightest breath, off-pace, seemed to be capable of waking her; one creak in the floor, a kicked toy, anything, could set her into a sudden waking fury and terror, and as soon as either of the boys had heard the error of their own ways, they would freeze, their adrenaline suddenly pumping. They would be made to stand still, in the middle of the room for hours, until she fell back asleep; the only mercy they could hope for was possibly being allowed to finish what they had gotten up for, be it a glass of water or to use the washroom.
Bloodline Application:
It wasn't long before Ryuichi would leave Tetsu alone. Junichi could anticipate the moment coming for years, and it brought her a terrible amount of anxiety. The Omoi family would spend the last days of that Summer, before Ryuichi had started apprenticing under his father, out on the coast of the lightning country, Tetsu blowing bubbles along the water with his mother as Goro explained to Ryuichi the unique dangers that existed in all the forests that were close enough to see from the shoreline. When it ended and Ryuichi was gone, Junichi took Tetsu gently by his shoulders, and told her son that she wanted a better life for him, and that he wouldn't be the same man his father was. She began wanting to pass on everything she was able to learn in mathematics and science, learned back when she lived in the heart of the village, to her son. She began imagining him one day consulting the Tsuchikage, or as the Jounin in charge of supplies for Lightning Country's armory. The only obstacle seemed to be that the boy seemed incapable of learning anything at any reasonable sort of pace.
Junichi had really meant what she said, and at first, even Tetsu could see her try, as hard as she possibly could, it seemed, to resist that slow slide backwards into old habits. She would start cracking his knuckle with a thin piece of wood she kept handy at the side of the boy's desk when he would periodically, and without fail, lose track of the pattern of thought he needed to follow to bring himself to the answers for his daily homework. Tetsu and Ryuichi used to compete to see who could get away with the most breeches to their mother's daily increasing list of disobediences that would see either one of them standing for hours to listen to her fury-filled rants. It was used as a punishment rather than a mechanism for complaints. Back then, the two had been fearless in the depths they would go to to incite her temper, but with Ryuichi now gone, the disobedience seemed hollow, and oppressive.
Tetsu had wanted to listen, to follow her pointing finger along the school books she had sacrificed so much to get her hands on. He wanted to, but could feel that lapse of attention waning on the horizon, and soon, and inevitably after that, the words would lose their focus, Tetsu seeming unable to even move his pupils, as if they were frozen in place. He knew if he couldn't break this spell in time, his mother would notice, and this had the effect of actually reducing the pace of his thoughts; to the point that he spent the final half of this moment of bliss preparing for what would then be inevitably on it's way. "You know what?" his mother suddenly barked at him, grabbing him by his arm, "If you're too stubborn to listen, you can stand out and think about whether you'd like to learn, or live like an animal."
He had taken to sleeping in the bathtub over the last several months, despite his mother's embarrassed berating when she found him, curled up like an infant. In Tetsu's mind, it was simple; the one bit of reality he could control beyond expectations was within his grasp; it was, almost, the difference between breathing and not breathing. As she tugged the boy out into the yard, a question, clinging to the back of his mind started clawing it's way gently along his subconscious, 'Why did she start taking me outside when I used to stand in the middle of the house?' It rolled along the flowing undulations of a quiet clamor of voices yelling up from the recesses of his memories and sense of the past. He knew, in the bowels of his soul, that it wasn't so that he wouldn't know when she had her eyes on him, and when he could get away with a momentary slouching to recover from his long and still-standing position. 'Hurry up! I don't have all day to wait for you to drag your feet!" Her anger was rising, and she jerked the boy's arm, hard. He knew something he couldn't quite articulate; that the reason the two of them were walking to a small spot out in the field for him to stand in, was because Junichi didn't want to have to look at her son. "Why don't you go fuck yourself?" Tetsu said, a whisper at first, but rising in a few short words to an awkward and shaking scream. He did not want to say it, the thought wasn't even in his head. It seemed to manifest from some physical part inside of himself, in his throat or stomach, and released as if against his own will and knowledge; but as soon as the words were given oxygen, they filled him with a boldness he had never felt in himself before.
Junichi shook Tetsu by his shoulders to make him look at her, even though he was already staring into her eyes, a glimmer of light she couldn't yet understand now igniting his gaze, "What did you say to me?!" She seemed uncertain at first, as if asking the question she almost choked on would solidify Tetsu's words into the fabric of reality, and Tetsu could see Junichi rapidly searching her own mind, trying to find some way that the boy might not have said what he had, in fact, said. "I said, YOU CAN GO FUCK YOURSELF!" The words poured out in a desperate shriek, the edges of his vision giving way to blackness, and were followed immediately by the woman grabbing and shaking the boy's jaw, "Listen to me!.." Junichi tried to begin, but was interrupted by Tetsu brushing her hand off of him and responding with "Don't touch me." So that when she came back and pressed her finger into his face, she couldn't seem to help but blurt out, "Do you wonder why your brother went to work for your dad and you didn't? He doesn't want to see you, you were a mistake. You belong to no one." She stormed away a few steps in a deafened fury, before Tetsu grabbed her by her elbow, swinging her around to punch her squarely in the cheek.
Junichi lay completely still on the rocky path for about eight seconds, unconscious, before springing to life and running in terror for her home, locking the door behind her. Not that it would have made any difference. Tetsu stood paralyzed in place until the necessary number of hours passed for his father to return home. The next day, when Tetsu had gone to the local Academy to apply, his father, catching wind of it, raced to apologize for his son's embarrassing and sudden appearance. Voices from a million miles away seemed to take some kind of pity on him though, as words that he couldn't quite hear, from faces he couldn't exactly see, seemed to be bargaining for his release, and before the day was done, he was registered. He was finally alone, and happy.
P.S. I have a single saved training post e-mail, timestamped from 2009, that could at least prove that I am an ancient player here...
