Strange… Yes… That was the perfect word for how Narashi Jo felt about… well… the world in general. He had spent a week in recovery in the Aesculapium after being removed from Immurement. Being frozen in carbonite for nearly three months had left him temporarily blind. It took a couple of days to recover his sight, and another couple days of physical therapy to get all of his motor skills back. The doctors were surprised at his quick recovery time, but Jo simply shrugged it off. The demon inside of him, coupled with the ability to quickly heal himself, cut his recovery time down to nearly nothing.
Jo shook thoughts of the hospital out of his head. He hated hospitals. Something about the smell of too much bleach and open wounds threw his stomach off; or, maybe it was the thought that most peoples lives began and ended on a hospital. Either way, he was glad to finally be out from under the stern gaze of his ANBU security detail and back out into the real world.
Strange, yes. Everything seemed strange. It was as if he was looking through new eyes, eyes unclouded by childish naiveté. Kumogakure was still its same old self; the streets wet and filthy from the snow melt-off, the leftover snow still laying in brownish-white heaps on the edges of the sidewalks from being plowed several days earlier. The air was still cold, spring having not yet arrived. The endless expanse of the dome that was the sky had a murky grey color to it. It wasn’t threatening rain, it was just reminding the villagers that they were still subject to mother natures whims, and spring hadn’t arrived quite yet.
Jo was just happy to be out and about, walking on his own and (relatively) free. He still had to report to the Torre for reassignment, and was on his way to do so as we speak. He had heard rumors of an election for the new Raikage, and the death of Hayata Shin; he had also heard that Hikari was stepping down as Sennin. As such, he had no idea who would be there to greet him when he arrived, or what position they would have him fill. As of now, he would be happy to have his old job back as the Hand of the Sennin, head of the Merces Letifer and the Main Branches lead assassin. Though the chances of that happening were slim-to-none in Jo’s mind. ’Oh, you were immured for letting your unregistered Jinchuuriki attack you fiancé? Why don’t you just come in on Monday and pick up where you left off, hmm? That’d be grrrrreat!’ Pft… yeah, right!
The young chuunins stomach turned at the thought of his ex-fiancé. He’d broken things off with her when he had been sentenced for immurement. She had loved him enough to forgive him, but he knew he was holding her back, and was a danger to her and everyone else he loved. He wanted so badly to see her, to hold her in his arms again, to tell her… what? What could he say to her that would do any good? What could he do to make up for his transgressions? What could put them back where they were before By-Tor messed everything up?
That wasn’t fair, it was Jo’s fault for letting the demon get a foothold on his soul so strong that he couldn’t control him. During his immurement, Jo and By-Tor had held a deep discussion in regards to what the standard operating procedure would be once they were out. Jo would continue to be the host, and By-Tor would stay out of day-to-day business; but there were a few catches, a few quid pro-quo’s that had to be satisfied. The precise details were drawn out and boring, resembling a contract for services rendered rather than a life-or-death agreement to cohabit the same body. Either way, the beast was under control, and Jo would never let him hurt Saeko again. No matter what the cost.
The Torre loomed before him, its massive height brooding over the village like an overprotective parent at the school dance. Jo entered the main doors, kicking the snow and water off his black leather boots before crossing the threshold. His non-distinct clothing was an unmarked symbol of his previous office, in which he specialized in assassination through means which couldn’t be traced back to the Shinobi of Cloud. As such, he wore simple civilian clothes that could blend in with the crowd: blue jeans, boots, black t-shirt, brown leather jacket. His hair was combed neatly, or had been before the win had buffeted it on his walk over. He tried to flatten it out as best he could, but quickly resigned himself to looking windswept and approached the receptionist desk.
”Excuse me, I’m Chuunin Narashi Jo. I need to report to whoever’s running the Main Branch currently.”
Jo shook thoughts of the hospital out of his head. He hated hospitals. Something about the smell of too much bleach and open wounds threw his stomach off; or, maybe it was the thought that most peoples lives began and ended on a hospital. Either way, he was glad to finally be out from under the stern gaze of his ANBU security detail and back out into the real world.
Strange, yes. Everything seemed strange. It was as if he was looking through new eyes, eyes unclouded by childish naiveté. Kumogakure was still its same old self; the streets wet and filthy from the snow melt-off, the leftover snow still laying in brownish-white heaps on the edges of the sidewalks from being plowed several days earlier. The air was still cold, spring having not yet arrived. The endless expanse of the dome that was the sky had a murky grey color to it. It wasn’t threatening rain, it was just reminding the villagers that they were still subject to mother natures whims, and spring hadn’t arrived quite yet.
Jo was just happy to be out and about, walking on his own and (relatively) free. He still had to report to the Torre for reassignment, and was on his way to do so as we speak. He had heard rumors of an election for the new Raikage, and the death of Hayata Shin; he had also heard that Hikari was stepping down as Sennin. As such, he had no idea who would be there to greet him when he arrived, or what position they would have him fill. As of now, he would be happy to have his old job back as the Hand of the Sennin, head of the Merces Letifer and the Main Branches lead assassin. Though the chances of that happening were slim-to-none in Jo’s mind. ’Oh, you were immured for letting your unregistered Jinchuuriki attack you fiancé? Why don’t you just come in on Monday and pick up where you left off, hmm? That’d be grrrrreat!’ Pft… yeah, right!
The young chuunins stomach turned at the thought of his ex-fiancé. He’d broken things off with her when he had been sentenced for immurement. She had loved him enough to forgive him, but he knew he was holding her back, and was a danger to her and everyone else he loved. He wanted so badly to see her, to hold her in his arms again, to tell her… what? What could he say to her that would do any good? What could he do to make up for his transgressions? What could put them back where they were before By-Tor messed everything up?
That wasn’t fair, it was Jo’s fault for letting the demon get a foothold on his soul so strong that he couldn’t control him. During his immurement, Jo and By-Tor had held a deep discussion in regards to what the standard operating procedure would be once they were out. Jo would continue to be the host, and By-Tor would stay out of day-to-day business; but there were a few catches, a few quid pro-quo’s that had to be satisfied. The precise details were drawn out and boring, resembling a contract for services rendered rather than a life-or-death agreement to cohabit the same body. Either way, the beast was under control, and Jo would never let him hurt Saeko again. No matter what the cost.
The Torre loomed before him, its massive height brooding over the village like an overprotective parent at the school dance. Jo entered the main doors, kicking the snow and water off his black leather boots before crossing the threshold. His non-distinct clothing was an unmarked symbol of his previous office, in which he specialized in assassination through means which couldn’t be traced back to the Shinobi of Cloud. As such, he wore simple civilian clothes that could blend in with the crowd: blue jeans, boots, black t-shirt, brown leather jacket. His hair was combed neatly, or had been before the win had buffeted it on his walk over. He tried to flatten it out as best he could, but quickly resigned himself to looking windswept and approached the receptionist desk.
”Excuse me, I’m Chuunin Narashi Jo. I need to report to whoever’s running the Main Branch currently.”
