The winter months in Kumogakure blew cold and fierce, the snow driven like frozen arrows against grey buildings and those unfortunate souls who dared to travel the cobbled streets of the village. The snow and the wind would be tolerable if they didn’t last for half the year. Spring and autumn were brief, distant memories; and the biting cold drove all memories of summer’s warmth into the darkest recesses of a weary mind. Most chose to shelter themselves indoors during the dark winter months. The lucky ones nestled up next to their families in front of a roaring fire and sipped on hot cocoa, while the less fortunate just huddled around the stove and prayed for spring. Then there were those who were neither of the above; those who had to brave the bitter cold in order to hope to survive until spring.
So it was that young Raikou Takeo found himself out and about on such a terrible day; his body covered with layers of thin, worn-out clothing in a futile attempt to protect himself from frostbite and hypothermia. The outermost layer of clothing was a ratty, grey hoodie and a pair of sun-faded, threadbare blue jeans. His old, dirty tennis shoes were worn over multiple pairs of socks, the holes patched with duct tape. Wrapped around the lower half of his face was an old grey scarf, and the hood of his hoodie was pulled up over his head, leaving only his eyes visible. Eyes that burned with the intensity and drive of a man on a mission.
Why was the boy out in this horrible weather, you ask? Simple; he was hungry. He had recently gotten a job at the Colosseum whose pay, combined with the weekly stipend from the Academy, was barely enough to pay his uncle the amount he extorted from the boy. Luckily staples like rice and canned vegetables were cheap, but meat wasn’t. The growing lad craved protein more and more each day as he worked, trained, and studied himself ragged; and there was only one way to attain free meat in the village.
“Poaching” is such a strong word. Takeo didn’t believe it applied in this situation. Were you supposed to buy a hunting license and game tags? Sure; but there was no way he was going to be able to afford them. The game wardens were few and far between in the Ancient Forest, and the risk-to-reward ratio was fairly low. Besides, “poaching” only really applied to trophy-hunting, anyway.
When Takeo entered the forest, it was as if someone had magically turned off the wind. The trunks of the trees and the canopy of evergreens sheltered everything within their grasp from the biting gale. Small flakes of snow gently floated down from the canopy above, settling feather-like to cover the forest floor. It was eerily silent here, the trees and the snow muting all sound and causing one to question whether or not one had been struck deaf. Taking a deep breath of the crisp, pine-scented air was enough to rejuvenate the student from the long journey through the village.
From the pocket of his hoodie, Takeo produced a simple sling. It was a plain thing, fashioned with two long bits of thick twine with a leather pouch in the center. His front-left trouser pocket contained a handful of lead shot, each sphere one inch in diameter. He had created them by melting down scrap lead from his uncles junkyard, and hoped they would be enough to take down small game. From his recollection, there was a breed of snow-hare that was native to these mountains that didn’t hibernate until much later in the winter; and boar were known to traverse these woods, as well as deer. Takeo didn’t think the latter two could be felled by a sling alone, but he might be able to stun one long enough to close in and finish it off with the shiv he’d fashioned out of some scrap rebar. Loading one round-shot into the pouch, Takeo made his way deeper into the woods.
It didn’t take too long before he spotted his first prey; one of the snow-hares. It’s coat was white as the powder through which it was hopping. Had Takeo not seen the slight movements it made, he would’ve missed it. Takeo froze as the hare scratched through the top later of snow in search of some pine nuts. He began spinning the sling above his head; slowly at first, and increasing the speed steadily until it was just a blur before releasing one of the strings and sending the small metal globe flying at the rodent. The muffled sound of a quiet “pop” paired with a splash of red on the white snow let the boy know he’d hit his mark. Takeo suppressed a whoop of joy and rushed over to the fallen creature.
He had nailed it right in the neck, snapping it and killing the poor animal instantly. The blood had spewed from its mouth and nose on impact as blood vessels burst, the crimson liquid seeping into the snow. Takeo had been aiming for the head, but was glad he missed. It was said every animal has just enough brains in its head to tan their own hide. Takeo hoped that was right; he could use a good pair of mittens. The hare was fully grown, but not large enough to make a good set of mittens; and there wasn’t enough meat on it to sate the boys hunger. He would have to take at least one more to have enough to eat for tonight and enough hide for a pair of gloves.
Picking up his kill and tying it to his belt by its hind legs with a bit of string, the boy looked around to see if there were any other tracks in the freshly fallen snow he could follow. He saw a pair of tracks heading deeper into the forest and decided to pursue them. Recovering his round-shot from the ground nearby, he reloaded it into his sling. Another deep breath of pine-scented air, and his hunt would continue.
So it was that young Raikou Takeo found himself out and about on such a terrible day; his body covered with layers of thin, worn-out clothing in a futile attempt to protect himself from frostbite and hypothermia. The outermost layer of clothing was a ratty, grey hoodie and a pair of sun-faded, threadbare blue jeans. His old, dirty tennis shoes were worn over multiple pairs of socks, the holes patched with duct tape. Wrapped around the lower half of his face was an old grey scarf, and the hood of his hoodie was pulled up over his head, leaving only his eyes visible. Eyes that burned with the intensity and drive of a man on a mission.
Why was the boy out in this horrible weather, you ask? Simple; he was hungry. He had recently gotten a job at the Colosseum whose pay, combined with the weekly stipend from the Academy, was barely enough to pay his uncle the amount he extorted from the boy. Luckily staples like rice and canned vegetables were cheap, but meat wasn’t. The growing lad craved protein more and more each day as he worked, trained, and studied himself ragged; and there was only one way to attain free meat in the village.
“Poaching” is such a strong word. Takeo didn’t believe it applied in this situation. Were you supposed to buy a hunting license and game tags? Sure; but there was no way he was going to be able to afford them. The game wardens were few and far between in the Ancient Forest, and the risk-to-reward ratio was fairly low. Besides, “poaching” only really applied to trophy-hunting, anyway.
When Takeo entered the forest, it was as if someone had magically turned off the wind. The trunks of the trees and the canopy of evergreens sheltered everything within their grasp from the biting gale. Small flakes of snow gently floated down from the canopy above, settling feather-like to cover the forest floor. It was eerily silent here, the trees and the snow muting all sound and causing one to question whether or not one had been struck deaf. Taking a deep breath of the crisp, pine-scented air was enough to rejuvenate the student from the long journey through the village.
From the pocket of his hoodie, Takeo produced a simple sling. It was a plain thing, fashioned with two long bits of thick twine with a leather pouch in the center. His front-left trouser pocket contained a handful of lead shot, each sphere one inch in diameter. He had created them by melting down scrap lead from his uncles junkyard, and hoped they would be enough to take down small game. From his recollection, there was a breed of snow-hare that was native to these mountains that didn’t hibernate until much later in the winter; and boar were known to traverse these woods, as well as deer. Takeo didn’t think the latter two could be felled by a sling alone, but he might be able to stun one long enough to close in and finish it off with the shiv he’d fashioned out of some scrap rebar. Loading one round-shot into the pouch, Takeo made his way deeper into the woods.
It didn’t take too long before he spotted his first prey; one of the snow-hares. It’s coat was white as the powder through which it was hopping. Had Takeo not seen the slight movements it made, he would’ve missed it. Takeo froze as the hare scratched through the top later of snow in search of some pine nuts. He began spinning the sling above his head; slowly at first, and increasing the speed steadily until it was just a blur before releasing one of the strings and sending the small metal globe flying at the rodent. The muffled sound of a quiet “pop” paired with a splash of red on the white snow let the boy know he’d hit his mark. Takeo suppressed a whoop of joy and rushed over to the fallen creature.
He had nailed it right in the neck, snapping it and killing the poor animal instantly. The blood had spewed from its mouth and nose on impact as blood vessels burst, the crimson liquid seeping into the snow. Takeo had been aiming for the head, but was glad he missed. It was said every animal has just enough brains in its head to tan their own hide. Takeo hoped that was right; he could use a good pair of mittens. The hare was fully grown, but not large enough to make a good set of mittens; and there wasn’t enough meat on it to sate the boys hunger. He would have to take at least one more to have enough to eat for tonight and enough hide for a pair of gloves.
Picking up his kill and tying it to his belt by its hind legs with a bit of string, the boy looked around to see if there were any other tracks in the freshly fallen snow he could follow. He saw a pair of tracks heading deeper into the forest and decided to pursue them. Recovering his round-shot from the ground nearby, he reloaded it into his sling. Another deep breath of pine-scented air, and his hunt would continue.
