Husk [Training]

Age : 35 Posts : 1113

Training:

Spoiler:

"Konoha." The whisper hung on the cold mountain air, as if clinging to the white exhalation from the speaker's mouth. A slender hand reached slowly out, the thin steam rising between the fingers and fading away. Uriko sat perched on the rock face, gazing down at the valley and the dense forests surrounding it. Amongst them, rustic, winding pathways intermittently parted the foliage. Every now and again, travellers, traders and the like could be spotted plodding along these well-worn routes. It was a near-certainty that they came from or were heading to Konohagakure, whose great sprawling buildings could be seen beyond the ocean of green leaf. The beautiful vista was accompanied by a very distant sound of tumbling water, one that came in and out of earshot with the breeze. Despite all of this, the scenery had failed to capture the kunoichi's attention. She had sailed, hiked and run too far. She had gone on too long without sleep and she hadn't eaten nearly enough to sustain herself. Even for one so hardened, who needed little by way of essential sustenance, the journey had taken its toll. Only after a good minute of gazing carelessly out across the mountain range did the woman's mind snap back to attention. She had come with a purpose. Up. The female nukenin thought angrily to herself, getting swiftly to her feet. Shaking herself from the torpor, Uriko turned in to face the bulk of the mountain. Only a few miles left.

Much to the woman's dismay, the final few miles were tough going. The craggy ground would so often feel perfectly solid underfoot but would give way with the lightest touch. Having to tread carefully for most of the remaining distance, it took Uriko a good hour to reach her destination. Nestled in between the mountain's peaks, on flatter and sturdier rock, a ramshackle settlement had been constructed. Countless years ago, nukenin factions had been forced to flee here for their own safety. Unable to risk navigating their way out of their environment and fearing for their safety outside, they had made camp to rest and recuperate. According to a few vague historical records, they simply stayed on in the area. Now, a rag-tag assortment of criminal types inhabited the region. Buildings were sparse and those that did exist were simple affairs. Most had at least in part been carved into the rock, then completed with durable wood from the trees below. Uriko could only guess at the trouble it had taken to carry such weighty and cumbersome materials all this way. As the kunoichi padded through eerily quiet 'village', she noticed that most houses were adorned with a small insignia. Upon closer inspection, these were intricate seals. This was a good sign - the Fuuin specialist she sought was definitely here.

Soon enough, Uriko found herself amongst the very centre of the settlement. On a small outcrop of smoothed-down rocks, three youngsters were sat playing some sort of game with the stones and chatting loudly. They each looked as though they had just entered their teen years and yet all bore the marks of combat. Of course, even the great shinobi villages had been known to pit children against potentially fatal odds if their skills were up to scratch. Usually though, their talent meant they returned not only victorious, but generally unscathed. These youths had fought and been injured beyond what standard medical techniques could undo. It was a tired argument of moral standing versus practicalities. It was also something that Uriko really didn't give two hoots about. "Boys." She ventured, sidling up beside the group and casting her gaze down at them. The trio turned to face the newcomer and although they tried to maintain a casual, if defensive, posture, the kunoichi instantly noticed their tensed muscles and nervous eye movements. "Relax. It's not you three I'm after." She affirmed. "The man who set these -" Uriko continued, gesturing to the seal on the nearest abode. "- where can I find him?" She finished, returning the youngsters' stares. The boys glanced at each other, unsure, before one of them piped up. "No trouble?" One of them muttered. The kunoichi shook her head once in reply. "There." The boy added, pointing at a small house some twenty metres away. The female nukenin nodded in thanks and made a beeline for the indicated abode.

Tap, tap. Knocking lightly against the wooden door sent a faint echo across the village, the noise bouncing off the encroaching rock faces. It took some time for the owner of the quaint home answered the woman's call and when he did, Uriko was taken a little by surprise. An elderly man, silver-haired and leather-skinned, pushed the door right back and leaned against it for support. Slowly cocking his head, he looked the kunoichi up and down. "Hoo boy. And what burden do you carry, child?" The man inquired. Uriko found herself struck dumb by the man. This was meant to be a criminal village, with rough and seedy characters, ramshackle bars and danger around every corner. Instead, she had found... this. The youth presence had been out of the ordinary but not unheard of; but not once had the woman come across a backwater town sheltering pensioners. And it was so damn quiet. Find your tongue, you fool. Uriko silently chided herself. A small cough helped loosen her voicebox. "More than you'd care to hear about." She finally managed. And before the man could interject, she spoke again. "Tell me first - what's wrong with this town?" She asked. The old man stepped aside to invite the kunoichi inside. "Ah, you noticed. The town have... gone out." He explained, not needing to say anymore to a shinobi such as Uriko. The woman kept quiet and followed the man inside.

The house was sparsely decorated and rather unremarkable, save for the large bookshelf at the back. In fact, it looked more like an huge wine rack than anything else. Each section was filled with bound scrolls of varying age. Some looked about ready to crumble if taken in hand. "Yasuo - and I'm sure it's a pleasure, but you're here for business only, I think." He muttered, busying himself with clearing a little space on his tabletop. Uriko wondered how the man was able to read her so well. The kunoichi had devoted so much time to learning to hide her thoughts and intentions, it was quite affronting to have them exposed this quickly. Glancing over at her, the old man saw her expression and chuckled. "It's not you, girl. I've not had a visitor for years who hasn't wanted my help." He seemed happy to keep rambling without a word from Uriko. "I take it your saw my heating seals on the other buildings?" Yasuo asked, trying to invite the woman to speak. "Indeed." She offered, not wanting to get dragged into idle chat. "Very well. What are you here for, then?" He sighed. Without a pang of remorse for using his expertise and then discarding him, Uriko started to explain. "I was injured, many years ago. A dark technique took my arm and nearly my life. I can no longer deny the mark it left on me." The kunoichi began. "Whatever remnant has been embedded within, I know it cannot be removed. Not a day passes that I don't feel it scarring my chakra and whispering in my thoughts." Uriko tried to disguise a sour expression accompanied by a brief bodily twitch. "But I am used to hardship. I only wish to understand it, perhaps learn to harness it." She finished quietly.

Yasuo's expression was one of intrigue, muddled with a tinge of apprehension. Wordlessly, he formed a set of seals (watched carefully by the eagle-eyed Uriko) and pressed his palms together. When he pulled them apart, a small faintly glowing seal was present on each. He reached out to touch the woman. Instinctively, Uriko recoiled at the notion. "I wouldn't be that foolish girl. You think I don't know of you?" He said, rolling his eyes. The kunoichi paused in thought, before slowly removing the folds of cloth covering her stump of a shoulder. The man pressed both hands against it for half a second, before jumping back, startled. "If you value your life, Uriko, do not try and harness that power." He said in between deep breaths. When Yasuo had regained his composure, he grabbed one of the oldest-looking scrolls from his collection and sat down, leaning over the parchment and reading carefully, tracing the words with a crooked finger. "I've not seen... never..." He mumbled as he came to the end of the text. Looking up at Uriko, he spoke in earnest. "This is the only record of something even vaguely similar to what you have endured. Come, see." He motioned for the woman, who approached with some trepidation.

Gazing over the man's shoulder, Uriko scanned the text. A few select words popped out, 'heinous crime'... 'mangled'... 'vicious'... The woman certainly felt that here, there was some congruency with her affliction. "Whatever did they did to you girl?" Yasuo murmured, shaking his head. The question was rhetorical, of course. Silence fell, lasting for at least a minute. Eventually, Uriko spoke. "You can't help me, can you?" She exhaled with disgruntled acceptance. "I've done all I can for you." The old man replied. "But if it's any comfort, this malicious thing will stay restrained by your own natural power." He added. "Don't ever run yourself ragged and for God's sake, do not try and meddle with it." Yasuo finished, turning to face the female shinobi. But he spoke to an empty room, only the clack of the door closing met the end of his sentence.

[Word Count = 1629/1100.]