Soromon was just a kid with nothing to really lose, it was the sort of statement one often says before they do something incredibly reckless or stupid. Well, this was no exception. Soromon was defecting from Kohonagakure with the youthful stupidity only a child could muster. Kohonagakure was at its heart a military-society, or oligarchy. Loyalty to one's hidden village and to the Hokage was paramount, and failure to abide would mean certain death. Even for a child. He had no excuses beyond the fact that he "wanted" to see the world and the beautiful women that inhabit it. Perhaps it was true and there would be kitsune girls in Sunagakure, or girls that could wrestle sandworms, either would be incredibly sexy. Perhaps it was true and there would be snow-bunnies in Kumogakure that looked so snugly warm in their fuzzy sweaters and fur-lined jackets. Yes, the boy was risking death because he was looking for a girl cute enough to live for. The concept grossly ironic most certainly, most bad decision are made with minimal thought that was primarily selfish.
It was raining today, a cold drizzling rain beneath a grey ominous sky. It was the sort of rain that was just miserable enough to keep most, less the most dedicated of outdoors-men indoors. A dreary day that was almost miserable enough to get the boy to think twice about running away today. Almost. The hormones of one boy could overpower even the mightiest of storms. So with a lack of reluctance that only a madman would possess, Soromon would pack his bags. He did not need or want to take much with him, it would make it too obvious when he ran. No, just a single leather backpack filled to the brim with clothes, yen and a bottle of cheap cologne. He would work his way across the forests of Fire Country and see what was on the other side of their borders. The women of Earth Country seemed exotic, Kohona's relationship with the shinobi nation had exposed him to the basics of their culture. He wondered if they were as... err... forceful as rumors suggested.
His thoughts occupied his consciousness as he collected his belongings and slung the heavy bag over his shoulder. A simple black umbrella over his head, the water would pour down around him as he looked at the streets of Kohonagakure for likely the last time. "This was a mistake," he muttered to himself out loud the very words that had been ringing in his head all of this time. He heard the broadcast, the one where a criminal had attacked a Sennin. A broadcast that was looped by some unknown, he was far from political enough to know that Leaf was in the business of killing children. It would not have set well with him had he known. No, the events that led to those deaths were not what compelled him to sate this wanderlust or a lust of another kind. He had reached the gates on a day too dreary for the guards to be at their best, beneath awnings or within gatehouses, they just wanted to stay out of the rain. The people inside, they were not looking. At least they were not actively watching, they had lives to tend to and warm heaths to attend. There was always that one with their eyes out their window, if it was due to curiosity or their love of the rain as they watched the large drops of water cling to the glass barrier. Yes, he would be seen, but hopefully they would attend his
His escape would not be anything exceptional, a length of rope tied around a stone. The boy did not even own a kunai as of yet. He would grip the end of the rope in his cold, wet hand and he would move his wrist back and forth, allowing the weighted end to rotate around. It would spin around and around, whistling as it did so. Then when he felt that the stone would be a powerful enough of a projectile he would release the stone and let it sail over the wall. Well, the first time he would miss. A novice in every way indeed. Again he would try, his tongue clenched between his teeth as if it somehow gave him a bit of additional mental fortitude. Then again he would release and the stone with the rope would sail over the wall. He did not miss the broad side of a wall before, no... he needed the stone burdened with rope to wrap around the buttress above.
Yes! Success.
He would give the rope a firm tug, the rope would not unfurl nor would the stone loosen its hold. He would climb, hands on the rope, feet planted on the wall. Not an ounce of chakra to be used, he did not have much to spare.
Ichi...
Ni...
San...
Shi...
There was something comforting about counting. Each second felt like a minute, he expected the guards to come for him as his feet struggled against the slick, wet lateral surface. Hand over hands... Foot over foot... He would crest the top of the wall and look out over the other side ---
But would he make it to freedom?
It was raining today, a cold drizzling rain beneath a grey ominous sky. It was the sort of rain that was just miserable enough to keep most, less the most dedicated of outdoors-men indoors. A dreary day that was almost miserable enough to get the boy to think twice about running away today. Almost. The hormones of one boy could overpower even the mightiest of storms. So with a lack of reluctance that only a madman would possess, Soromon would pack his bags. He did not need or want to take much with him, it would make it too obvious when he ran. No, just a single leather backpack filled to the brim with clothes, yen and a bottle of cheap cologne. He would work his way across the forests of Fire Country and see what was on the other side of their borders. The women of Earth Country seemed exotic, Kohona's relationship with the shinobi nation had exposed him to the basics of their culture. He wondered if they were as... err... forceful as rumors suggested.
His thoughts occupied his consciousness as he collected his belongings and slung the heavy bag over his shoulder. A simple black umbrella over his head, the water would pour down around him as he looked at the streets of Kohonagakure for likely the last time. "This was a mistake," he muttered to himself out loud the very words that had been ringing in his head all of this time. He heard the broadcast, the one where a criminal had attacked a Sennin. A broadcast that was looped by some unknown, he was far from political enough to know that Leaf was in the business of killing children. It would not have set well with him had he known. No, the events that led to those deaths were not what compelled him to sate this wanderlust or a lust of another kind. He had reached the gates on a day too dreary for the guards to be at their best, beneath awnings or within gatehouses, they just wanted to stay out of the rain. The people inside, they were not looking. At least they were not actively watching, they had lives to tend to and warm heaths to attend. There was always that one with their eyes out their window, if it was due to curiosity or their love of the rain as they watched the large drops of water cling to the glass barrier. Yes, he would be seen, but hopefully they would attend his
His escape would not be anything exceptional, a length of rope tied around a stone. The boy did not even own a kunai as of yet. He would grip the end of the rope in his cold, wet hand and he would move his wrist back and forth, allowing the weighted end to rotate around. It would spin around and around, whistling as it did so. Then when he felt that the stone would be a powerful enough of a projectile he would release the stone and let it sail over the wall. Well, the first time he would miss. A novice in every way indeed. Again he would try, his tongue clenched between his teeth as if it somehow gave him a bit of additional mental fortitude. Then again he would release and the stone with the rope would sail over the wall. He did not miss the broad side of a wall before, no... he needed the stone burdened with rope to wrap around the buttress above.
Yes! Success.
He would give the rope a firm tug, the rope would not unfurl nor would the stone loosen its hold. He would climb, hands on the rope, feet planted on the wall. Not an ounce of chakra to be used, he did not have much to spare.
Ichi...
Ni...
San...
Shi...
There was something comforting about counting. Each second felt like a minute, he expected the guards to come for him as his feet struggled against the slick, wet lateral surface. Hand over hands... Foot over foot... He would crest the top of the wall and look out over the other side ---
But would he make it to freedom?
Going Missing