Ninpocho Chronicles

Ninpocho Chronicles is a fantasy-ish setting storyline, set in an alternate universe World of Ninjas, where the Naruto and Boruto series take place. This means that none of the canon characters exists, or existed here.

Each ninja starts from the bottom and start their training as an Academy Student. From there they develop abilities akin to that of demigods as they grow in age and experience.

Along the way they gain new friends (or enemies), take on jobs and complete contracts and missions for their respective villages where their training and skill will be tested to their limits.

The sky is the limit as the blank page you see before you can be filled with countless of adventures with your character in the game.

This is Ninpocho Chronicles.

Current Ninpocho Chronicles Time:

Private Simple Healing [Class]

Miyazaki Hikaru

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Hikaru slid open her office door and stepped into the hallway, holding her breath for a moment to listen for the sound of anyone approaching. Although she was making progress with maintaining her Jinchuuriki spirit’s ocular jutsu- the closest she could get to seeing normally- she had realized that it probably wouldn’t be feasible to use 24/7, so she was exploring other sensory options to get around. The news that her vision has returned even in part had been received well by her colleagues at the Byoin; her first operation aided by Ukabu’s vision the other day had been a success, thankfully.

For the time being, though, she was navigating by sound and touch. The slight pressure signifying the simple sensory jutsu around her was usually enough to avoid running into people, and she could use the wind if she got lost completely.

It was early afternoon. She felt weak sunlight passing through the windows into the halls of the hospital as she walked to the front of the building. Much of her work for today was handled already, so she thought she’d take a walk to get out of her office- her cousin had once remarked that without regular exercise at work, she’d turn into a vegetable in no time. Hikaru agreed, yet at the same time it was difficult to pull herself away from the assignments she knew would be a pain to finish later.

The Medical Chief stopped beside the reception desk and closed her eyes. Her resident Jinchuuriki spirit Ukabu was asleep, it seemed, or as close to it as his consciousness could get. So much for, well, vision. She drummed her fingers on the desk, mulling over a few other ideas for what to do with her break.

Class topic for Daisuke and Shoma! Adopting the normal 5 day wait limit for posts; I'll let you know if I need more time, and you can do the same.
Make sure you keep track of Word Count for each post- the requirements for completion are 5 posts totaling 1500+ words!
Good luck, and let me know if you have any questions.

WC: 294
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PC: 1 / 5
TWC: 294 / 1500
 
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The journey to the hospital had taken longer than any other time that Daisuke had journeyed to the general area, there was good reason for this of course. Shoma was a weight to carry, Daisuke wasn’t the largest or strongest for his age but he made do – though this lad seemed to be on the denser side and thus his weight was far more than was initially anticipated. The two had just finished a spar that resulted in Daisuke watching his opponent fall after what was potentially a more serious barrage of jutsu than may have been necessary. His pearlescent blue eyes flicked to the left, scanning what he could of the boy’s injuries. There were smudged slashes of red here and there from what he could see, the water jutsu he had used to attempt to heal Shoma after their spar could only go so far and that bout of healing was nowhere near good enough to provide enough respite for the taller boy.

Blue glass doors glinted in the light and sat framed by cream concrete walls. It wasn’t exactly a place that specifically interested Daisuke, but it had its uses and hopefully today would signal at least a new level of medical understanding for the genin.

They passed through the doors with a bit of effort, Daisuke’s feet scraped over the threshold while he fought to keep Shoma upright as much as he could. This was clearly the thanks he deserved for giving the dark-haired boy a more meaningful practice session. Here he was, somewhere that he tended to avoid unless he was visiting his father, and with someone he hardly knew. Teamwork was always the goal in a genin exam, but this wasn’t an exam, this was real life and sometimes you had to take what you could and move on. Daisuke shook his head for a moment; he couldn’t have left Shoma on the ground back there – it would have almost definitely been grounds for a criminal charge or something like that. He couldn’t afford to dirty his spotless record with a misunderstanding that would result from a passer-by misreading the situation.

The front desk wasn’t too much further. Just a few. More. Steps. And they were there. The Minamoto boy looked up from his strained position and focused all his might to speak and keep Shoma standing.

“He needs medical attention.”


[MFT]
[Word Count: 397]
[Total Word Count: 397/1500]
[1/5]
[Topic entered]
 

Uchima Shoma

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Shoma didn't often dream, but when he did, it was of a small village nestled in the forest of Fire Country. In his better dreams, he was running among the trees, chasing a great white dog named Kuma, the family pet. The gentle rays of sunshine piercing the canopy offered brief moments of warmth to interrupt the cool of shade and early spring. These dreams were some of the happiest times of his life, imagined though they may be, and always left him wishing he could go back to sleep for just a little bit longer.

When the darkness took him, peeking out from that deep corner of his mind, he dreamt not of the forest itself but of a tea house, the same tea house where he lived with his father. It was usually some variation on the same theme. There were too many customers, there was a spot on a cup that he couldn't get out, the tea wouldn't boil, or he simply couldn't move fast enough. Regardless of the reason, and there was always a reason, he felt helpless, useless as his melancholy father looked on and shook his head in disapproval. Waking from these dreams was a blessing, though the relief was often delayed, coming only when he was sure that it was indeed a dream.

This time, Shoma was dreaming not because he was tucked away in the small double bed in his room at the boarding house, but because a young blonde boy named Minamoto Daisuke had quite thoroughly thrashed him. It wasn't his first lost sparring match, but it was the first time he'd been beaten to the point of unconsciousness. His mind seemed to be taking the opportunity to revisit all of his fears and insecurities.

He dreamt of the forest. At first, it seemed it would be a good dream. The sun was shining through cracks in the cover of leaf-filled branches, and Shoma was laying on his back in a patch of sweet-smelling green grass. Kuma panted beside him, clearly having lead the boy on a wild chase to get to the clearing. He was happy in that moment, happier than he had been in a long time, but it was short-lived.

The rays of sunshine on Shoma's face disappeared as if a cloud had passed by. He opened his eyes at the change in temperature, fully expecting to see nothing more than a slight shadow, but was greeted instead by the shape of a human head, a face hidden in shadow staring down at him. Shoma was frozen with fear as he examined the face. Its features were indistinct, but there was a feeling of sinister intention in what he made out to be a smirk. Shoma's eyes shifted to his left, looking for Kuma, hoping his lifelong pal would come to his rescue. He saw a mound of white fur marred by splotches of red. It wasn't moving.

Shoma felt tears well in his eyes as his gaze shifted back to the face. The whole forest had gone dark, but the face seemed to stand out more. It was a man, with dark violet eyes and a nose that looked like it had been broken a few times. There was a scar along the side of his face, and his thin red lips were drawn in a smile.

Did you really think you could protect them?

It was a grating voice, like nails on a chalkboard. The mere sound of it made Shoma want to squirm, but try as he might, he couldn't move. He couldn't strike out, he couldn't get up to run, he couldn't even reach out to touch Kuma. He was useless.

They're mine, you know. All of them. That mope of a father, this mutt, everyone you've ever known in the village. Soon I'll take everyone in Konoha as well. Then, when there's no one left for you to save, I'll take you. You belong to me, Shoma. You all belong to me.

Shoma wanted to scream that he was wrong, to find the kunai he knew was in his pocket and strike out at the stranger. He wanted to run home and warn his father, but he couldn't do any of that. He could only lie there and listen to this man taunt him.

Suddenly, there was movement at Shoma's side. He turned away from the man, overcome with a sense of hope that Kuma had survived, that he might even be able to come to Shoma's aid. What he saw horrified him more than anything the man had just said. Kuma was moving, alright. Stiffly at first, then as if waking from a dream himself, the dog seemed to find his footing. Shoma hadn't appreciated at first the extent of his friend's wounds. There were gashes all over his body, kunai and tanto protruding from his flesh. As Kuma turned, Shoma's heart sank to a depth he'd never known existed. His friend was snarling, not at the intruder, but at Shoma. The skin of his face had been peeled back, exposing the dog's skull. Kuma was dead, and yet he wasn't, but he was no longer Shoma's friend.


That's right, Shoma. I'm a Dark Sage. When I say you belong to me, I don't just mean in life. Kuma is more mine now than ever!

The man laughed, just as Kuma lunged for Shoma's face.

Shoma's eyes fluttered open. He wanted to run, but he felt every bit as helpless as he had in the dream. His body would barely listen to his commands, and there was someone under him, a mop of yellow hair visible in his peripheral vision. There were white walls, a tile floor below him, and a desk of some sort ahead. He heard someone say,


He needs medical attention

He lifted his head to look at the desk. There was a man there in a white coat, looking concernedly at Shoma. His heart rate began to slow as the fog of nightmare lifted from Shoma's mind. Taking its place was pain that seemed to envelop his entire body. The pain brought with it a return to darkness. His head felt light and his vision blurred at the corners. He fell back into unnatural sleep, though this time was blessedly devoid of dreams.

[MFT]
[WC: 1043]
[Total WC: 1043/1500]
[1/5]
[Topic Entered]
 

Miyazaki Hikaru

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Messages
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Hikaru’s thoughts were interrupted by the faint sound of shuffling feet outside- in moments, the Byoin’s front door slid open without fanfare, bringing with them the pair that had struggled inside. The Medical Chief’s senses were already trained on the patient(s) from practice (believe it or not, there were quite a few people who regularly hobbled inside, dead on their feet, after one ‘mission’ or another. The hospital staff strongly suspected informal prizefighting), and as soon as she heard the words ‘needs medical attention’ the kunoichi was in motion. Alerting a nurse down the hallway behind her, Hikaru wheeled a stretcher around from the compartment in the lobby, stopping in front of the two to instruct them, “Lift him onto here, if you can, and please follow me.”

The nurse arrived to take the other end as she began wheeling the bed behind her; she recognised him as Sora, one of the bright new arrivals who had just completed his training not long ago. Briefly indicating her eyes, the Medical Chief asked, “The patient’s condition?” to which he quickly replied, “He’s recently unconscious, light bleeding, no visible complications. He… looks like he’s having a nightmare.” Hikaru nodded sharply, questioning the boy who had brought the patient in next, “Describe what you know of what happened to him, please. How was he hurt, how long has it been since then, as much of the full situation as you can recount. What are your names?”

They reached the temporary care facility in less than a minute, and soon Sora was closing the door of the boy’s room as the kunoichi pulled the stretcher to a halt. Still paying attention to the explanation of what had happened, she tried to mentally prod Ukabu to wake up to no avail, finally instructing the nurse to help her examine the patient. “He doesn’t seem to be in extreme condition,” she explained after a few moments of silence, “in fact, he’ll probably be able to wake up on his own. If he doesn’t, we’ll wake him eventually- I’d like to talk to you two.”

WC: 349
--
PC: 2 / 5
TWC: 643 / 1500
 
Joined
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Messages
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Daisuke’s face, as usual, was a blank sheet of emotionless as he continued to shuffle forwards with the weight of Shoma on his shoulders. He wasn’t one to ask for help, so thankfully when the figure ahead moving with great swiftness almost as soon as he had arrived with his less than lively companion. The Minamoto boy was already somewhat tired from the physical exertion that he had been consistently providing to ensure that Shoma remained as close to upright as possible, Daisuke wasn’t the strongest of shinobi but he had a knack for making sure his chakra reserves lasted much longer than others. As such, it wasn’t too much for him to shift what was left of his chakra into his arms in an effort to lift Shoma onto the stretcher that had been rushed over by another member of staff. He was thankful for the relief that came flooding over him once the weight of his comrade had been borne by the stretcher; his shoulders ached but the recirculation of blood brought a sense of pleasing warmth that soothed his overworked muscles.

Now that his vision wasn’t impaired by the mass of a shinobi that he had been supporting, Daisuke had the opportunity to glance around at the gleaming sterile halls of the Byoin. He had been here more times than he could count, what with the position his father held within the establishment – he had almost been brought up here at certain stages of his life. Yet it had never meant more to him than a place of efficient healing. The blonde shinobi hadn’t actually ended up here himself in need of treatment, he’d always managed to avoid injury even when facing skilled opponents. Honestly he had barely even suffered a scratch that wasn’t as a result of his own training. The boy was spotless, much like the institution within which he found himself currently.

His piercing blue eyes darted up towards Hikaru as she spoke, searching for answers to what exactly had happened and who they were. “Minamoto Daisuke,” the boy nodded. “That is Uchima Shoma.” Daisuke took a breath before continuing as they walked towards wherever they were being taken. In truth he wanted to leave once he had dropped Shoma off but it seemed as though his presence was required for one reason or another.

“We had been sparring,” Daisuke said matter-of-factly. “He faced a mixture of water, fire, and shuriken jutsu. There may also be residual Serpent’s Blood in his system, but it shouldn’t have any long term effects.” The boy glanced up at the unconscious figure, examining him for himself. “I over-estimated his endurance.” The way in which Daisuke spoke was almost jarring for any unfamiliar with him, there seemed to be no emotion in his voice and each word was delivered in a rather direct formal tone. The respect with which he spoke was almost always overshadowed by the bluntness of the words he used – though he liked to think of it as efficiency of speech.

They rounded the corner of a room to which the doors soon closed. This area seemed to be a bit more private, for which Daisuke was thankful. Though it did make it seem as though he was trapped in whatever conversation was to follow. “I healed him to the best of my ability but he has remained unconscious.” Daisuke didn’t take many paces into the room, instead he stood and waited by the closed doors. He wasn’t overly sure what to do, he had done his job by bringing Shoma here, yet his presence was still required. Only time would tell what the medic before him had in store.

MFT
[WC: 614]
[TWC: 1,011/1,500]
[2/5]
 

Uchima Shoma

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Shoma's eyes fluttered open to be greeted by a bright, sterile light. He was lying on his back and there were voices around him. The words didn't register at first, but as his mind began to catch up to his body, he made out the sound of Daisuke explaining their sparring match.

I must be in the Byoin...

There were a few other voices, most of them muffled, probably not in the same room, but one came from beside his bed, tickling a memory in the back of his mind. He'd heard that voice before, though briefly, but given the context of where he was, it made perfect sense. His throat was dry, but he was able to squeak out,

Hikaru... this isn't how I thought we'd meet again. Sorry for the trouble.

He grinned weakly as he turned toward Hikaru, and then back to Daisuke on his other side.

It looks like I wasn't ready for you, Daisuke. Maybe I should have just stuck to the heavy bag.

He rested his head back, staring once again at the white ceiling, squinting a little at the glare of artificial light. Lying on the stretcher, Shoma began to take stock of his body. His head hurt, and there were burning streaks of pain all throughout his torso, legs, and arms. Painful though they were, they weren't excruciating, and he was able to wiggle his toes and fingers, so he knew he hadn't lost any mobility. Really, he was more exhausted than anything, and more than a little uneasy as the details of his nightmare slowly came back to him. He shuddered for a moment, unaware if the sudden chill was from loss of blood or the idea of evil shinobi going around raising the dead. Both seemed equally likely.

Shoma turned again toward Hikaru. The motion required a little more effort than he was comfortable with.

What do you want to talk to us about? I'm going to be ok, aren't I? Everything hurts, but I think I'm mostly just tired. That sparring match was tough.

Recalling his defeat brought a note of melancholoy to Shoma's voice. It was far from his proudest moment, being beaten unconscious by someone younger than him, never having even seen his opponent. It was simply another reminder that Shoma was behind.

[MFT]
[WC: 378]
[Total WC: 1421/1500]
[2/5]
 

Miyazaki Hikaru

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Messages
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The Medical Chief took mental note of their names as Daisuke gave them. The documentation and paperwork associated with patients admitted to the hospital were required, but not immediately necessary for more pressing cases- she’d write them down later. Shoma she had met in the library once, he wouldn’t be too long out of the Academy. She was less sure about Daisuke; the name had floated around once or twice, but she could never recall meeting him.

Ready, Hikaru stood beside the stretcher with her palms extended over the patient, beginning the standard set of recovery techniques. She prodded Ukabu in their shared space in her mind, and moments later her eyes shone to life, revealing Shoma’s visual condition. The mednin prompted the other boy to continue as a humming purple aura surrounded her hands.

Sparring it was. She was glad it hadn’t been a freak accident or other problem that would pose a danger to the young shinobi’s life, but the fact that one had rendered the other unconscious during a spar was… concerning. They appeared to be around the same age, yet Daisuke was treating the matter with little outward emotion- he spoke in an even, practical manner, describing the attacks he had used against Shoma. “Serpent’s Blood is harmless once the effect wears off, you’re correct. I’d normally advise against poisoning your sparring partners, although fortunately this isn’t one of the nastier kinds; the worst it’ll do to him now is tire him out.” She was familiar with Serpent’s Blood, she had used it herself.

Hikaru narrowed her eyes the smallest bit, still focused on her patient, as Daisuke waited near the door. He was giving her mixed impressions- carrying Shoma to the Byoin on one hand, knocking him out and wanting to leave soon after on the other. Something in him reminded her of herself, although that wasn't exactly a great sign.

The patient stirred, blinking at his surroundings. He was able to speak well enough; the Medical Chief responded with a nod, wrapping up the medical procedure by beginning to ease his pain and exhaustion where she could. “You should be sorry,” she replied calmly, speaking to both of them. “I don’t want to see Genin in the hospital, especially not after sparring with other Genin.” She didn’t want to be hard on them, but it was important- lower-level ninja were often given the capacity to seriously harm one another without the experience to control their abilities.

She finished the jutsu on Shoma after a short time: it seemed there wasn’t much of him to heal. In a more reassuring tone, she continued, “Yes, you’ll be fine; most practice is good practice,as long as you don’t wind up here often. Know what your limits are, and don’t push them all at once. Daisuke, I suggest you learn to better understand the limits of others- it’s a useful skill.” She eyed him still standing by the door. “In fact, while Shoma is here to recover from his treatment, I’m going to teach you two something useful. This is a Medical Ward, if you’re familiar with it:” Standing up straight, Hikaru formed three handseals, one by one, and touched her arm. Jutsu formula grew from the spot she made contact with, flowering into a circle around the point with the character for ‘WARD’ in the center.

“Try it out now, if you think you’re up to it- Shoma, your chakra should be mostly recovered by now. It’s a technique for protecting the person it’s applied to. With specific variation, it can also be made to stop someone from losing consciousness.” She gave a pointed look towards Daisuke, almost succeeding in hiding the ghost of a smile.

[WC: 617]

PC: 3 / 5
TWC: 1260 / 1500
 
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Honestly, the Minamoto boy should have been much more comfortable in the Byoin than he was. Healing wasn’t something for him, he had a natural talent for certain aspects of it – but he had never come across a situation where healing could have save the lives of those who were extinguished in a brief moment of violence. Yet, despite all of his instincts pulling Daisuke out from the ward and back into the depths of the village, his extreme sense of respect for all those more senior than him kept the boy rooted to the spot. This was despite the looks of disappointment that occasionally drifted his way – in truth he didn’t understand exactly why he was on the verge of a scolding from the attending medical ninja.
Shoma stirred, and Daisuke watched on as his sparring partner came to. The slightest shimmer of relief ran through the blonde boy, seeing that he had done no more damage than he had intended. A light breath was the closest thing to a sigh that he could give without being obvious as to his feelings in that moment. He needed to stay as matter of fact as he could.

The taller of the two boys still seemed to be in thought as he lay there, Daisuke observed and then listened as Shoma spoke further. It appeared as though he was reflecting on the circumstances of his current situation. Daisuke nodded once in response, though spoke to challenge Shoma’s thoughts on using the bag.

“You have gained more than the bag would have given you.”

His words were quickly cut short as Hikaru spoke up, her words were accurate and fair of course but Daisuke could not help but feel as though in some way he had done his fellow genin a favour in their spar. Yet instead of offering a rebuttal, he instead bowed his head in apology. No words were to be spoken by the blonde boy, as he took several steps further into the room to observe the series of handseals that the mednin chief formed. An interesting combination that resulted in a seemingly useful jutsu – the description of which made it appeal to genin. Maybe he did have some use for medical ninjutsu after all.

He took a breath and stepped forwards again, with each footfall he formed a seal until he stood right next to Shoma. The chakra he had gathered bubbled away within his body. He did as Hikaru demonstrated and placed his right index finger to his left forearm. Nothing seemed to happen at first, it was almost as if something was drawing his focus away from the application of this jutsu. Daisuke closed his eyes in deep concentration, attempting to channel the energy into a more useful form.

“Your father’s son I see. Fine, I will allow it.”

The words floated in his mind for a moment. Catching him off guard. For a brief second his body seemed to turn translucent, almost as if he were completely made from water. Then as soon as the words had faded, he returned to his regular form, a pattern similar to Hikaru’s but smaller grew faintly visible on his forearm. While nowhere near perfect, it was some sort of a start.

[MFT]
[WC: 543]
[TWC: 1,554/1,500]
[3/5]
 

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