It was a crisp dawn, the sun just barely poking up over the city of Iwagakure. Light rays falling between the elegant marvelous buildings as the earliest peeps of birds broke the night silence. The streets still holding the quiet peace with no sandal-wearing people to stir up the dust as the day wore on. However, not all was well in the idyllic community of stone. For the lurking Terror that plagued the low streets of inner Maruishi. She was up to something particularly devious today, as she had played hooky effectively from her training at the Ninja academy. Her trusty slingshot tucked into her colorful satchel was her weapon of choice for this operation. The Hospital had not yet experienced the full extent of her burgeoning abilities as she scampered up the smooth sides of the building. Grasping each painted ledge, easing up and up until she reached a particular window. This window belonged to room 239, and she had made it her entry point for all her mischief. Juroyo pulls a small thin piece of metal out of her pocket, squeezing close to the window so she didn't lose her footing. As she jams the oddly bent item into the crack between the window and its sill it took just a little pressure to make it pop up enough for her to get a couple fingers into the crevice. With little effort she forced the window up the rest of the way and slipped silently in.
This was going to be the best practical joke yet! She had stayed up all night after faking throwing up to get out of dinner. Rolling tiny fragile paper mache pellets with an old news paper and itching powder. A classic maneuver sure, but she had every intention of pegging a few stuck up med-nin with the stuff. Give her shots will they? Tell her to stop eating candy? HA! They would pay for their insolence against the Greatest Gangster in the world! A Yakuza didn't listen to anyone, let alone some fancy chi users who said she wasn't actually sick-.
Ni hyaku san juu kyuu was hard to say. Her internal monologue was interrupted however by a strange sound in the usually empty 239 room.
Juroyo's instincts won out as she dove underneath the cot pressed against the wall, wedging herself neatly between the two bins reserved for old clothes and sheets. Using them and the low nature of the bed to conceal her presence even if it made her have to bend at an odd angle.
This was going to be the best practical joke yet! She had stayed up all night after faking throwing up to get out of dinner. Rolling tiny fragile paper mache pellets with an old news paper and itching powder. A classic maneuver sure, but she had every intention of pegging a few stuck up med-nin with the stuff. Give her shots will they? Tell her to stop eating candy? HA! They would pay for their insolence against the Greatest Gangster in the world! A Yakuza didn't listen to anyone, let alone some fancy chi users who said she wasn't actually sick-.
Ni hyaku san juu kyuu was hard to say. Her internal monologue was interrupted however by a strange sound in the usually empty 239 room.
Juroyo's instincts won out as she dove underneath the cot pressed against the wall, wedging herself neatly between the two bins reserved for old clothes and sheets. Using them and the low nature of the bed to conceal her presence even if it made her have to bend at an odd angle.