His steps were confident, measured. Booted feet fall without a sound against the pristine floors as the man makes his way through the mansion with the air of someone who not only belongs, but has the authority to question anyone who stops him. Few even pause long enough to think about him as he glides by, leaving them wondering about his presence briefly before deciding he belonged.
He was armed, and armored, naturally. But in the village of Konoha that wasn’t anything unusual. Perhaps in the mantion it may have been but Maki was certain it wasn’t so rare as to stand out. He was wearing his old samurai slayer gear. It began with a black shirt, so tight as to be form fitting on his upper torso and short of sleeve. Over that was a red jacket that went from shoulder to halfway down his torso before ending abruptly where his ribs were. It had several symbols upon it which on closer look were symbols for the village of Konohagakure. Over the longer sleeves were red han kote that provided minor protection of his forearms. Under this were pants that were as black as the shirt, topped by red haidate that would provide similar protection of his thighs. He had black combat boots on, with red suneate that covered his shins. Completing the ensemble were the weapons at his side. Each appeared to be a katana, and one had a parrying ring built into the hilt. Something that was rarely seen.
He stops as he comes close to the restricted area, assistants and guards at the ready to make sure only those allowed in were able to get by. Child’s play, however, for the man who trained many of these guards in their early years. With a simple set of handseals, the warrior simply strides by invisible to the eyes of those watching for him, coming out on the other side of that mantrap undetected. And by his target.
The door was locked, a natural precaution in this day and age. Natural but useless to the former ANBU Sennin. A set of picks appear in his hands and masterfully run through the tumblers and pins, security pins in each slot showing just how seriously these people took things. A thin wire is next, shimmed between the door and frame and remove any nastiness which might be waiting on the other side. Finally he opens it, slipping in and taking a moment to relock and rearm anything he’d disturbed.
Brown eyes scan the room before settling on a familiar desk. The former Sennin walks over to it and grabs a nearby seat, kicking his feet up and grinning as he purposefully sets off every chakra-armed alarm in the place upon doing so.
(Summoning Takeshi to his office)
He was armed, and armored, naturally. But in the village of Konoha that wasn’t anything unusual. Perhaps in the mantion it may have been but Maki was certain it wasn’t so rare as to stand out. He was wearing his old samurai slayer gear. It began with a black shirt, so tight as to be form fitting on his upper torso and short of sleeve. Over that was a red jacket that went from shoulder to halfway down his torso before ending abruptly where his ribs were. It had several symbols upon it which on closer look were symbols for the village of Konohagakure. Over the longer sleeves were red han kote that provided minor protection of his forearms. Under this were pants that were as black as the shirt, topped by red haidate that would provide similar protection of his thighs. He had black combat boots on, with red suneate that covered his shins. Completing the ensemble were the weapons at his side. Each appeared to be a katana, and one had a parrying ring built into the hilt. Something that was rarely seen.
He stops as he comes close to the restricted area, assistants and guards at the ready to make sure only those allowed in were able to get by. Child’s play, however, for the man who trained many of these guards in their early years. With a simple set of handseals, the warrior simply strides by invisible to the eyes of those watching for him, coming out on the other side of that mantrap undetected. And by his target.
The door was locked, a natural precaution in this day and age. Natural but useless to the former ANBU Sennin. A set of picks appear in his hands and masterfully run through the tumblers and pins, security pins in each slot showing just how seriously these people took things. A thin wire is next, shimmed between the door and frame and remove any nastiness which might be waiting on the other side. Finally he opens it, slipping in and taking a moment to relock and rearm anything he’d disturbed.
Brown eyes scan the room before settling on a familiar desk. The former Sennin walks over to it and grabs a nearby seat, kicking his feet up and grinning as he purposefully sets off every chakra-armed alarm in the place upon doing so.
(Summoning Takeshi to his office)