Mission The Earth Remembers What Men Forget... [Modded: Pre-Mission: A Rank]

[Ryuu Nozomi]

The wind never truly rested at Dragon Tooth Pass.

It threaded endlessly through the jagged stone corridor, howling between the massive rock spires like breath drawn through clenched teeth. The cliffs on either side rose impossibly high in sheer, vertical walls of dark granite scarred by ancient fractures. There was beauty too in that they were streaked with mineral veins that shimmered faintly when lightning rolled across the distant sky. No path allowed for an easy climb across the peaks and even birds avoided flying too close, instinctively sensing the way the air folded and broke against the stone. This was the only way in or out of the magnificent city of Kumogakure. Twin guard towers flanked the opening, their shape stark and bold against the flittering clouds in the sky above. Figures were in constant movement along their parapets, the rotation of shinobi who were ever watchful and alert. There was nothing that passed through Dragon tooth without being noticed, and well documented.

At the base of the gates, standing just beyond the shadow cast by the eastern tower, waited a single man.

Arato Jinsho was a Chuunin by rank, not due to combat prowess but reliability. The man was in his early thirties, broad shouldered but not bulky by any means. His build signaled years of patrol duty as he was very bottom heavy and his skin told of much travel in high altitudes. It had a deep bronze leathery look, marked by the cold bitter winds with faint scars that had never fully faded. His dark hair was pulled back into a short knot at the back of his skull, unadorned and rather practical. His jacket bore the insignia of Kumogakure, worn but meticulously maintained. The cloth of his uniform was reinforced at the knees and elbows, and fingerless gloves covered his hands. A standard issue blade was strapped to his thigh, though it looked as though it had rarely left its sheath in years.

What would draw the gaze of a casual observer however, was the pack slung over his shoulder.

It was larger than what a single shinobi would carry on a standard patrol. The canvas was thick and reinforced with leather straps. It had weight to it which was evident in the way it pulled slightly at his stance. Several compartments were fastened tight, and each tagged with small color-coded markers. Multiple sets of coiled rope hung from the sides with pitons and climbing spikes secured along the frame. A rolled map case was strapped across the top to keep it sealed against moisture.

Jinsho shifted the pack once, subtly redistributing the weight. He had been standing here for some time already as the high-ranking official who briefed him earlier had not wasted words. This mission was of the utmost importance.

He had been told only what he needed to know and how to debrief those who showed up. Jinsho's role would not be to command, advise, or even to traverse the terrain with them. It was simply to provide information, supplies, and to watch the brave warriors disappear into the vast icy landscape beyond.

For each candidate, the pack held a prepared bundle. Inside were field rations of dense protein bars, dried meat strips, preserved rice packets, electrolyte salts, and sealed water skins designed to withstand freezing temperatures. As well as two signal flares per shinobi, each tuned to burn a distinct color visible even through fog or dust. There was also chalk for leaving directional signs on stone, sealing tags designed to stabilize minor chakra fluctuations, and lightweight climbing harnesses rated for vertical stone or descent. Each kit also included a general area map, not detailed enough to compromise security if lost, but precise enough to show elevation changes, known fault lines, and historical cave systems marked only by simple symbols.

As he waited, the gates loomed behind him. Jinsho exhaled slowly through his nose and rubbed hands together to keep warm. He had left this place many times but never stood to feel the weight of a moment like this before departure. Nervousness filled him as he knew that voices would soon fill the pass. That boots would scrape against stone and snow. There would be many questions, and the tension would be measured in the space between breaths.

Just not yet, for now, he waited...


[Accepting Shinobi of All Ranks.]
[Before we leave we will make sure we are following the new Mission Rules: https://ninpocho.com/threads/a-little-mission-update.69823/]

[Lower Ranks will be kept based on first come - first serve basis. So... get in quick! Hopefully everyone can join and this isn't an issue, but I wanted to address it ahead of time just in case.]

 

[Orochi Sakura]

The Dragon Tooth Pass unfolded ahead of her like a deliberate choke point, not a natural one. Too narrow. Too cleanly brutal. The kind of terrain designed less by geology and more by consequence. She paused at the edge of the stone corridor, boots planted firmly against frost-bitten rock, dark eyes tracing the vertical scars etched into the granite walls.

Lightning flickered somewhere far off, briefly illuminating mineral veins that shimmered like exposed nerves beneath stone skin. Sakura cataloged it all automatically. Elevation. Wind shear. Sightlines. Kill zones. Escape vectors.

Elegant, she decided. Her steps were measured, deliberate, the scrape of her boots swallowed by the constant howl threading through the pass. By the time she reached the shadow of the eastern tower, Sakura’s gaze found the contact waiting there. The pack was the tell. Her eyes lingered on it briefly. Too heavy for patrol. Too organized for improvisation. Sakura stopped a few paces away, posture relaxed but alert, arms folded, chin slightly lifted.

The wind cut hard through Dragon Tooth Pass, sharp enough to gnaw at bone. It should have bitten into her. Orochi Sakura stepped fully into the corridor of stone without so much as a hitch in her stride. She wore no fur lining, no insulated cloak, no concession to the altitude or the screaming cold. Instead, she was dressed in a tailored black uniform that looked more suited for an interrogation room than a mountain pass. The fabric was structured and severe, pinstriped so faintly it only revealed itself when lightning flashed. The jacket cinched neatly at her waist, buttoned high and precise, sleeves fitted close to her arms. Practical, yes—but warm? No. And yet, she did not shiver. Dark hair was pulled back into twin braids that fell behind her shoulders, bound tight and disciplined, not a strand out of place despite the wind’s efforts. A straight fringe shadowed her brow, framing eyes that were sharp and unblinking, their focus heavy enough to feel deliberate. Her expression rested in a perpetual state of calculation, lips neutral, jaw set with quiet intent. There was no tension in her shoulders, no sign of discomfort in her hands, which remained bare as the cold scoured the pass.

A blade was secured along her back, its hilt rising over one shoulder, unmoving as she walked. Even her breath gave her away—or rather, the lack of it did. Where others would have exhaled fog into the air, Sakura’s presence left the wind undisturbed.

“Orochi Sakura,” she said plainly, voice cutting clean through the wind without effort. No flourish. No bravado. Her gaze flicked once to the massive gates behind him, then back to his face.

“You’ve been waiting a while,” she added, tone observational rather than sympathetic. “Good. That means I have an alibi.” A faint pause followed as her eyes briefly returned to the pack, already dismantling its contents in her mind. “Either way,” Sakura continued, stepping closer into the tower’s shadow, “you’re the one holding the answers. I’d prefer we skip the ceremony and start with what matters.” A thin, knowing edge touched her words, not quite a smile.

The wind howled harder between the stone spires, tugging at them. Sakura stood unmoved within it. Her mind slipped towards her situation briefly. The one thing that’s been plaguing her ever since she reactivated… that is, who could have deactivated her in the first place? She was put to sleep a decade too soon and had she not set contingencies, she’d be waking to a new era. Someone wanted her out of the way. But who? Time would tell. And when it does, there will be hell to pay. Vengeance comes at a cost, she thought distantly. But preparation decides who pays it. Her eyes never left the contact as she waited.

[mft]

 

[Shuusui Ruri]

The summons did not come through the academy, that alone piqued her interest. Ruri was already awake when the messenger arrived at the Shuusui compound, the eastern sky still dark and cold air clinging to the stone tiles of the courtyard. She was midway through her forms, breath controlled, palms cutting through the air in clean arcs as chakra pulsed faintly beneath her skin. The soft tap of sandals at the compound gate barely registered until the faint rustle of paper followed. She finished the sequence before moving, habit overriding curiosity. Only then did she approach the gate, pale eyes narrowing slightly as she spotted the sealed envelope tucked into the delivery slot. The wax bore no academy mark. Instead, it carried the formal insignia of Kumogakure’s administrative seal and it was addressed to the Shuusui Clan.

Ruri frowned, glancing once toward the main residence. The compound was still quiet, far too early for council members to have awoken. Too early for her father who loved to sleep late into the morning these days. That decided it for her. She broke the seal with gusto, the letter was, however, frustratingly sparse. No dramatic preamble, no details that satisfied her questions. It spoke of a mission of importance that would meet near the Dragon Tooth Pass, of environmental danger and the need for heightened perception. It requested, politely but firmly, that the Shuusui clan provide a representative, citing the Byakugan as a valuable asset for terrain assessment and threat identification.

No names were mentioned nor ranks specified and Ruri’s grip tightened on the paper. This wasn’t a simple academy mission, it wasn’t posted on a board or filtered through instructors who would inevitably tell her she was 'too young' or 'not yet ready.' This was a direct request to the clan, to her bloodline and in that moment her mind raced ahead of her better judgment. If the clan sent someone and succeeded, it would reflect well on the Shuusui name. On her father and their standing. If she went, if she proved herself useful, proved herself capable, it would be more than just another training exercise or controlled trial. It would be proof that she wasn’t a placeholder. Proof that she didn’t need to be sheltered until adulthood. Proof that she could stand where others expected a son to stand.

She folded the letter slowly, heart beating faster than her steady breathing betrayed. She could already hear the objections if she brought it forward. The arguments she wouldn't be able to win because she's to pigheaded. The looks exchanged over her head as someone else was chosen, someone older and safer.

Someone male...

She slid the letter into her training vest. “I can do this,” she murmured to herself, jaw setting. “I will do this.”

The sun had not yet risen when Ruri returned to her forms, but her focus had shifted entirely. By the time the compound began to stir, she had already made her decision. She would answer the summons and she would do it without permission.

Ruri left the Shuusui compound that morning as she always did. Training clothes on, hair still damp from a quick wash. Her steps light and purposeful as she headed toward the academy district, at least, that’s what anyone watching would assume. The facade needed so that no one would become suspicious or try to stop her or question her. By the time the sun had begun to crest the mountains, she had already veered off the familiar route, taking the long ascent toward Dragon Tooth Pass instead, not looking back. They would notice soon enough, her father especially. There would be anger, shouting, perhaps even punishment waiting for her return, if she returned, Ruri had accepted that long ago. Proving herself confirmed what she already knew, permission was rarely given to those who were expected to fail. The wind grew sharper as the path narrowed, the stone beneath her feet cold and unyielding. When the twin guard towers finally came into view, Ruri slowed, not from nerves, but to steady her breathing. She arrived alert and ready.

Just beyond the eastern tower stood a man with a large pack slung over his shoulder. Ruri recognized him vaguely, she’d seen him before, perhaps around the academy? Shinobi were always coming and going, teaching a class here and there as if trying to fill some quota, with him stood a woman she didn’t recognize at all.

That one made her pause, the woman’s posture was rigid, composed to the point of severity. Her face was calm, too calm. Beautiful, maybe, but in the way stone statues were beautiful. The kind of expression that didn’t reveal anything unless it wanted to. Ruri couldn’t read her at all, and that alone made her wary but she approached anyway.

“Morning,” Ruri said, voice clear and even as she stopped a respectful distance away. “I’m Shuusui Ruri.”

She gave a short nod to the man first, then the woman, eyes steady, no hesitation.

“I’m here for the assignment.”

She didn’t offer much more information. Didn’t mention the academy, didn’t explain why she stood here instead of someone older, ranked higher, or more obviously qualified. She let the words hang where they were, hoping, just a little, that no one would press her for credentials. If they did, she’d deal with it. If they didn’t… then she’d let her eyes, her instincts, and her fists speak for her instead. Ruri squared her shoulders, the wind tugging at her clothes as the pass howled around them. She was here and she intended to stay.

[WC - 935]