Recovering [Free Rp/Anyone Can Join]

[Nakata Dai]

The toll of traveling taxed Anatsu harder. This was a boy that had never traveled beyond the Fire Country before. This was most certainly the farthest he had ever been from home. That didn't scare him too much. He had seen things far scarier than traveling. Conquering the Thug Lord and avenging his father's death was the toughest thing he had to ever do. Leaving his family, clan, and village was not a thought that bothered him. He simply wanted to stay alive and figure out where he could put his talents to use. He knew nor understood any life beyond getting paid to assassinate. For some reason he naively thought that the Village of Kumogakure would appreciate his talents. To them, he wasn't the emotionless murderer. They had no idea of his talents. He only appeared as a ninja that betrayed his village and became a rogue shinobi. Little did they understand his pains and his reasons. Perhaps the sennin would care to listen. He didn't really know what to do.

For now, it was time to taste Kumogakure's ramen. He located a small ramen bar that had a heater in the corner. He ordered ramen with chicken in it and paid for it from a portion of the small amount of money he had left. It was evident by his accent that he was not a Kumogakure citizen so he attempted to talk as little as possible. His next step would be to find a place to sleep. He hadn't slept too much in days. However, ever when he did where he slept was not too much of an issue. The only issue was that Kumogakure was a lot colder than his route to get there. Sleeping outdoors meant certain death.


Anatsu was still covered up in his black travelers cloak

 

[Nakata Dai]

[Void Post]

 

[Ginyama Senshiro]

A short and scrawny eight year old lad fled from a salon across the way and a few blocks down, scurrying on his feet and knuckles like an ape as he frantically looking back to make sure either of his foster parents weren't keeping tabs on him. Relieved that there was no obvious sign of his new family, the boy's pace slowed down to a kind of strut as he made his way over to a ramen bar--the one with the heater in the corner.

As he climbed up on of the stools and perched himself on it, he dug into one of the pockets of his until-recently fresh and crisp white three-piece suit. . . .

And another. . . .

And another. . . .

Finally Shin fumbled about a fourth pocket and found what was left of his so-called "allowance": just enough for either a bowl of ramen or novelty contact lenses to hide his red eyes.

"Beef ramen, please," he requested as he handed the notes over to the chef. Scratching his scalp underneath his once-grungy now-stylish white hair with once-grungy now-stylish fingernails, he turned his head towards a man enshrouded in a black cloak and his meal.

"Is that . . . chicken?"