"A strong presence from the Hidden Stone."[break][break]
The words drift in from somewhere behind the pair as Koma closed in on them, steps falling soft and slow against the grit of open soil. With so many of those gathered standing at the sidelines in observation, the genin proved to be in nothing in a rush, sandals guiding him to stand neatly beside the taller figure of the his platoon's jonin.[break][break]
"This is... the tsunami?"[break][break]
It wasn't often that his voice lilt with such inflection. His tone trailed off in airy wonder as he fold his arms even across his chest, a mild furrow hinted in his brows as his gaze center itself for the breathing boulder resting within the quarry's bowl.[break][break]
He was dressed in the usual garb of a Rain shinobi, the near black hue of his jumpsuit accented by stark white fabric along his sides, large round hat drawn back to rest against his shoulders. With the nation's symbol carved into the metal of the hitai ate strapped about his arm, his association should be unquestionable. Despite the matter of his trespassing, he seemed to be at ease, perfectly comfortable in perching himself alongside his companions.[break][break]
His eyes were soon to cast themselves sideward. He was making note of their surroundings, taking stock of any potential threats or advantages that might present themselves during the process of their "investigation."
[attr="class","glassslipperkoma"]— anotsu uchiha & Aiko Hyuga [break]Event! Observing from beside Anotsu and Aiko
Five seconds. The threat rang with some dull sense of familiarity in his ears. The memories the words stirred instilled him something far different than a sense of urgency, though as the woman called out the first number of her countdown, he soon came to register what the severity of the consequences may be. His gaze wandered itself toward the tangle of twigs and leaves composing the bush serving as his cover. Already he was lifting himself obediently to his feet. Perhaps it was fortunate, seeing as the countdown was being rushed to a conclusion.[break][break]
Stood upright, Koma stepped himself forward, face lifted toward the pair across the water as his steps carved noisily through the bush to see his meager stature revealed on the other side. His alliance was made obvious by his attire, contrasting hues of the typical Rain shinobi resting loose over his figure while the circle of a conical hat rest in wait against his back. The headband secured around his upper arm only further cemented his nation of origin.[break][break]
There was no hint of tension in the easy rest of his shoulders, no alarm in his eyes or worry to crinkle the line of his brow. Though the thought drift through his mind that he might apologize for intruding, he couldn't deny the fact that he wasn't sorry, rendering such formalities little more than lip service. Useless.[break][break]
"Secret admirer," he admit, refusing to raise his voice even with the trickle of the river that stood between them.[break][break]
It seemed his tone was equally void of threat or worry. Simple, light, and to the point. Now that he was out in the open, it was apparent that the little genin had nothing to hide - something evidenced by the fact that he took another step nearer, sandals splashing an entrance into the shallows of the river.[break][break]
"I didn't want to interrupt."[break][break]
The calm eyes that had leveled themselves toward Makoto lift to level themselves with mount Seiichi, a vague curiosity reflected from their depths.
Was he actually angry? The clench of his jaw suggest it. The sharp line of his brows. The narrow of his eyes. And, of course, the vicious downward curl of his lips that cut his face in a decisive frown.[break][break]
"Thief!"[break][break]
Faint as the shout was, it strained his vocal chords, and his throat burned raw for the force with which the breath press from his lungs.[break][break]
Koma was in pursuit, sandals crashing against the shallow puddles drawn along the street pavers, a figure just ahead of him dashing onward at a full sprint. Stunned passersby were knocked aside without mercy, some bracing themselves to the walls of the buildings lining the streets while others ducked themselves off to one side - staring after as the miscreant shot like an arrow along his course.[break][break]
There was no apology from the shinobi hot on the stranger's trail. Despite the distinctly difference in the length of their legs, the short-statured ninja was keeping pace, gaze locked toward his target as he carved right along the opened way, intent on closing the gap between them. Sun hanging low, pale blue sky marred by the drifting thick of full grey clouds, the streets were in the full of morning traffic. It was too crowded to go pulling a shuriken at this point. For fear of hitting a cowering civilian, he would simply have to wait for an opportunity to present itself.[break][break]
And present it did, as the man turned abruptly to break off from the main street and trample a path through a narrow side street, threatening to lose the boy in the shadow cast by the towering building standing as a sentinel to the east.[break][break]
It was a risk the ninja couldn't afford to take, though with the criminal turned off from the main road he had much less a chance of catching his shuriken on an unwitting civilian. His hand reached for the pouch at his belt, readying the iron of the metal stars in his fingers, and with a leap - shot himself for the column of a nearby lamppost, kicking off from its frame to launch himself into the alley in a desperate bid for some speed.[break][break]
The turn of his eyes was swift as he slipped into the shadow behind him. He was hurrying to get a bearing on his new surroundings - but before his sandals could hit the ground, he spotted something. A hand lurching from the darkness to capture him - a hand not belonging to the sprinting figure now standing confidently ahead of him.[break][break]
Koma was quick enough to dart his shuriken for the offending stranger, the stars finding their home in the man's shoulder. Even so, in his airborne state he found there was little he could do to prevent the coil of the man's grip for his throat.[break][break]
With a noisy splash - the shinobi was down, foreign fingers anchored about his throat as the back of his skull smacked harsh against the muddy stone previously underfoot. Soaked in the chill of rainwater, Koma's eyes pinched themselves narrow to avoid any of the murk from blinding him, gaze locked toward the rage spelled across the features of the man now looming over him.[break][break]
The stranger's attack was only temporarily halted by the sting of the shuriken bitten into his arm, and in the end, the pain had only served to incense him further. With an irritable snarl the man lift his stubborn arm, heedless to the sear of the weapons embedded in its muscle. The gleam of the knife in his grasp was not lost on the shinobi, and as he drew the blade back in preparation to run its metal through the cage of the boy's ribs, another figure shift within the shadows, waiting impatiently for the chance to be on their way.[break][break]
The thief hadn't been working alone, and Koma had been drawn right into a trap. Three against one.
The voice that called out to him wasn't the one he had expected to hear. Koma kept himself still, white brows cinching faint over his eyes as his focus held toward the steadily rising margin of watered down milk. Some stinging whisper at the back of his mind forced the tension in his brows smooth, and with a blink of his eyes he turned his head - gaze rising to level itself with that of the jonin addressing him. Busy as he considered himself to be, there was no denying an order. Even as the question was posed to him, he was already capturing the glass bottle in his fingers, digits moving to force its cap roughly into place as his lips rest natural as sober line.[break][break]
His eyes didn't leave Anotsu for a second, hands moving to guide the shape of his bottle back to the grocery bag weighed against his shoulder. The pleading chirps of the kittens as he rose to his feet was met with a cold shoulder, the boy's eyes fixed for the open break of the alley, where the shadows vanish and the open street began.[break][break]
Hand moving to adjust the weight of his bag, Koma followed after the Uchiha's steps in silence, daring a curious glance sideward to survey the man's expression. The twist of his stomach coiled itself tighter at the prospect of potentially speaking out of turn.[break][break]
"Uchiha. Sir."[break][break]
The boy had never been one for first names. Manners directed the use of surnames and titles only. The words escaped his lips with respect alongside their offering of acknowledgement, though perhaps the greeting were a bit late considering they were already on the move. What questions swirled in his mind failed to surface in the depths of his eyes, their distance maintained despite the mild spark of attention with which he regard the jonin.[break][break]
Of all the thoughts to spin under lock and key, there was only one that was particularly loud, and with the soft low of a humbled tone, he spoke.[break][break]
"Have I done something wrong?"[break][break]
No tremor of fear broke his voice, no weight of regret or inquisitive ring. To him, the question was posed out of necessity.
The slide of glass along the fabric of the genin's cloth bag was imperceptible. Between the smatter of the downpour and the knifelike cries of kittens piercing the watery veil, the rest of the world was left to silence.[break][break]
Koma's fingers move deftly to pull the cap fitted to the bottle's mouth, and with only the gentlest 'pop' to signal his success, guide his hand forward, tilting the glass to see the shallow of the saucer's basin swallowed with the mildly sweet sustenance of cream.[break][break]
Right away, the mewls fell to silence, replaced instead by the steady lapping of hungry tongues and the rumbling appreciation of contented purrs.[break][break]
Should he have felt some sense of satisfaction? The distance in the boy's stare held fast, his gaze settled beyond the little bundles of fur gathering at the glassware's edge. No smile hinted to the line of his lips, the line of his brows rest gentle over his vacant watch. That another had stumbled upon him was beyond his perception, and as he watched blankly onward, he drew his hand out to one side - letting the rain fall into the open mouth of his milk bottle.[break][break]
No doubt the movement was intentional, as after a moment of letting his hand linger out from the protection of his shadow, his gaze turned for the newspaper he'd moved just a moment ago. Its material crinkled against the grasp of his fingers, and as he took it into his hold, he moved it out into the rain - using it as a resting place so what milk may be missing could be replaced with rainwater.[break][break]
The cycle seemed familiar to him. Everything had been prepared ahead of time for his arrival. But perhaps the milk was all he had to give. His hand failed to move for his bag a second time, gaze lingering toward the bottle to measure how long he might have to wait for it to be rendered full once more.[break][break]
The occasional needy cry sound from the slurping kittens, but it wasn't enough to draw his attention. He felt no need to check over his shoulder, or to search down the path of the alleyway. He seemed comfortable in simply going through the motions, having done this plenty times before.
[attr="class","glassslipperkoma"]— anotsu uchiha [break]thanks for joining!
It was unexpected. The parcel the woman had tossed caught his eyes, and as its shape landed in the grasp of the strange muscled mountain, his gaze stuck there with it, curious to the truth of the woman's words. Sure enough, what wait inside looked to be the promised snack, and by the sound of things, its taste was far more appealing than what drink might hide in the large man's gourd.[break][break]
He was taking notes. Measuring postures. Weighing gestures and tones and feeling out the tension. What unease had settled over Otogakure seemed decidedly lacking in the presence of the pair, and while it was no surprise given the intimidating presence of the more decidedly masculine of the two, it did catch his interest that the woman seemed well at ease in closing the distance between them. Even so, what calculation filtered through his mind proved absent in the dark amber hue of his stare. In fact, it wasn't until the man voiced notice of an unseen presence that the boy's expression saw any shift at all.[break][break]
The narrow of his eyes was faint, the downward tilt of his chin subtle as the man turned his eyes toward the treeline. The very hiding place the shinobi had seen fit to disguise himself. It wasn't beyond the genin, the way the man's eyes lingered. He'd been spotted, and as the stranger's focus stuck, he moved smoothly to step himself further into the shadows, letting the dark swallow him whole as the leaves littering the forest floor crackled underfoot.[break][break]
He wouldn't flinch from it. What good would it do him? At this point there was no concealing the noise, so the shinobi simply let the sound resound, keeping regrets to himself and his movements as smooth and controlled as he could manage. Gently, he ducked himself down, stepping quietly slip behind the trunk of the tree he'd rest his hand against only a moment prior.[break][break]
Koma didn't venture far. Or anywhere at all, really. He simply slinked himself quietly to the opposite side of the tree, keeping his head down to listen on. He'd bank on the hope that they'd assume he fled from the scene. As little a surprise as it was to be noticed so quickly, he wouldn't stop in pressing his luck just yet.
He wasn't far off. Just across the shallows of the river, perhaps a little ways back, figure masked in the thick shadow of the treeline. It wasn't perfect camoflauge. Enough to spare him the notice of a passing glance, maybe. He was too close to the edge, shade flickering over his shape to reveal the scarce line of his silhouette. His eyes were toward the monolith taking pause at the water's edge, and as a second shinobi slipped into view, he soon came to realize he wasn't the only ninja taking stock of their numbers. His focus shift briefly to take measure of the woman bold enough to guide her steps through the splash of the water, and with her presence commit to memory, his gaze was right back to the tower of muscle that had first caught his interest.[break][break]
Calm, his hand braced itself to the rough bark of a nearby tree, bare fingers caught against its gravel as his gloved palm rest against it's surface. The voices across the way carried well enough over the water, and though the pair seemed well enough distracted in each others company, he wouldn't dare chance his neck in leaning in nearer in attempt to better parse their words.[break][break]
Koma kept himself still and quiet in the safety of the brush, resigned to keep his distance as the tranquil empty of his stare studied on.
The sky weighed heavy. Black with rain. The heavens poured their tears in bounty, and as the rain hissed against the metal and stone, the clouds rumbled with discontent. Another day, another storm, masses crowded thick in the streets with hoods drawn and puddles clapping underfoot.[break][break]
It was nearly lunchtime. Though the storm masked the sun at its zenith, the stomach knew, and Koma's own was tight. Knotted with hunger.[break][break]
A bleary stare watched from the vaguely tanned features of the young man. The boy. Feet trudging along through the wet with hood drawn and groceries rounding out the fibers of the cloth bag weighing his shoulder. His eyes were dead. The line of his lips empty. With the stink of wet city heavy in his nose, it might be no surprise that the boy may have retreat to his thoughts, though by the vacant of his eyes, there may have been nothing at all on which his mind turned itself over.[break][break]
He stopped and turned. Into the shadows. The dark of an alleyway. A sleeping civilian huddled against the corner of a building tucked themselves nearer to its shape in search of some solace from the rain, fully ignored by the child as he continued onward. His destination lie beyond the garbage cans. Further than the dumpsters hinting the air with spoil.[break][break]
There, huddled in a corner. Under the safety of a cardboard box.[break][break]
Koma stopped, and drawing his bag from over his shoulder, he drop himself down neatly to rest his weight atop his heels, careful not to catch his pants in the filthy wet of the alley underfoot.[break][break]
It was quiet at first, the murmur of rain drowning out the gentle scrape of china as he drag a chipped saucer from its hiding place beneath some discarded newspaper. Its gentle grind sound to a halt as he set it before the shadow of the wilted box's mouth, and with its presence, the fluffy inhabitants of the sagging box mewled to life, sharp cries piercing the quiet with desperation.[break][break]
Tiny kittens fumbled on wobbly legs to pull themselves from the protective shade of their den, and upon their arrival, Koma reached for the bag at his side, fingers circling themselves about the glass neck of a milk bottle.
Every day begins with the same song. A dry, reedy voice sounds out against the patter of rain, the familiar tune of a Sunagakure lullaby drifting against the hush of a downpour. The house is still black as night, with the sun yet to rise and the clouds gathered to disguise its arrival. Against the darkness, timber creaks gently as the sliding door is guide open, steps soft against the powder of dust underfoot as candlelight pierces the shadow.
A single crimson lock is all Koma has as reminder to his parentage. That and the family art. Fuinjutsu. Barriers. Adamantine chains. He was born in the confines of a prison cell, to a Sunagakure kunoichi captured at the conclusion of the war between the Hidden Rain and Hidden Sand. At the command of the freshly titled Kazekage, he was taken from the woman to be gifted to an elder of other loyalties. Loyalty to the victors on the opposing side of the war. Loyalty to the Amegakure.
What time isn't spent in work or training is spent catering to the whims of this elder, an Uzumaki himself. It's Koma that sees to the cooking, the cleaning, the laundry and the shopping. And after all the menial chores are complete, it's immediately to training, with his assigned guardian looming over him in constant reminder of the consequences of failure.
Unquestioning and humble, what fight the young man might have had was ground out from his spirit long ago. Koma carries himself as a tool of the Kazekage, and, given time and training, he's sure to prove his use.
Proficiencies
Taijutsu [Rookie] Clumsy. Slow. Decisively lacking in power. Koma's movements are hesitant and awkward. It's a rarity for a strike to land against anything other than an untrained novice, and his hyper focus in attempting flawless technique renders his guard painfully low. He's ineffective, and his lack of experience shows in every move he makes.
Shurikenjutsu [Rookie] Off the mark. Incapable. A bullseye is no common occurance for the boy, and he as of yet lacks the skill to bend his toss. It's only in moments of adrenaline that he can muster anything worthy of praise. He has a sharp eye for weapons being thrown his way, and can sometimes deflect whatever dangerous object may be sailing toward him.
Stealth [Rookie] It seems he can only remain hidden so long as he is completely still. His feet are never in the right place to take a step. He tends to catch things with a wandering hand or shoulder when too distracted in how he's going to get from point A to point B. "Useless" is often the word ascribed to his skill, and the shinobi in training hardly denies it.
Kekkai Ninjutsu [Rookie] Another failing for the list. Koma's barriers are brittle and small, taking great concentration to focus into existence. It takes all his strength and attention to erect a simple chakra wall, and even then, the barrier fails to maintain its shape unless bolstered by the proper seal.
Fuinjutsu [Rookie] Koma's patient, exacting nature lends well to the nature of seal work. Between diligence and proper training under the guidance of more experienced fuinjutsu practitioners, though the young ninja's repertoire is limited, he shows a firm grasp on the fundamentals of the art. As of yet incapable of sealing multiple items within a scroll, he can at least seal away a singular small inanimate object for later use.
[attr="class","APP3"]
Genshin Impact
Koma Uzumaki looks like Kaedehara Kazuha.
Last Edit: Sept 7, 2021 7:56:40 GMT by Koma Uzumaki
