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[ \The Meeting House | Kumonohora | The Heart of the Chiroptera/ ]
The reclusive fort housing the survivors of Kumogakure no Sato's destruction, located in the center of Chiroptera Forest whose dangers and local superstitions provide a natural barrier to the rest of the world. Nestled in the roots of one of the ancient trees, the people here are learning to survive alongside the ancient forest, the local Koumori serving to help things along. However, carefully hidden away underneath the fort the shinobi way of life continues on in the shadows in Kumonohora....

Re: | Rewriting the Pages | (Private)

PostPosted by Spike » Thu Apr 03, 2014 5:43 am

"Keep it then.”

The bo staff in his palms dissipated into chakra, slithering up his arm before resting in the tattooed seal it had been summoned on. Supaiku relaxed, his hands finding comfort in his pockets as he glanced at Hana with the most casual of smirks. He figured Dinn would do something like this and had already guessed his swords and Tsuuki beloved Tasogare were right in Hana's grasp.

"Tsuuki 'n me don’t need ‘em, ‘cause we’re idiots right?” His grey orb shifted to the side at his partner in crime as his other eye of blue kept focused on Hana. Despite his lax demeanor, Dinn knew that something was brewing in his brother’s mind and for a moment he felt he should intervene as the sensei of the team and try to settle these squabbles before this meeting became completely unsalvageable.

Yet he continued to observe, interested it seemed in how this would pan out.

"You talk about wanting to serve and protect and being serious about it all but that’s the problem. You’re too busy trying to show everyone that’s ever doubted you that you can succeed, what’s the point if you don’t do something stupid now and again?” By this point he had stepped over to his pile of clothing, redressing as he continued. "You’re doing what is expected instead of what you want, if that’s how you want to live then fine, that’s your business but don’t you dare ever judge us for what we do.”

"Learn to... be what you are, and learn to resign with a good grace all that you are not." The older Hantaa interjected as he glanced at Supaiku with some slight amusement. He would never describe his brother as a great speaker, he had a good heart but he was never able to convey his jumble of emotions in a clear and decise manner.

"You are correct that Tsuuki was born in Raikou, Hana-chan, however the Koumori aren’t under the village jurisdiction. His clan are faithful protectors of the forests that surround the village and very few are actually official shinobi, technically, Tsuuki-kun had no obligation to answer my summons.” He then glanced towards Supaiku, giving a slight sigh as wondered if he should explain the reason the younger Hantaa was so touchy about her earlier questioning of the pair.

"I wasn’t born here; my village was destroyed during a disaster that Kumogakure was involved in. Because of that, I kept being refused into the academy and I had to work harder than anyone to be accepted into its ranks.” His eyes were now level at the ground, his posture hunched slightly as he scratched at his spiky nest of hair. "I don’t have any family besides those who accept me for who I am. Dinn supported me, his family took me in and called me a son and it was because of them and the blood, sweat and tears we shed together that I was accepted as a shinobi despite people thinking I might hold a grudge or vendetta against the Cloud.”

He paused to compose himself, Dinn went to take a step forward but Supaiku stood back, head now level and eyes staring right at Hana.
"Me and Tsuuki are lazy, irresponsible and for the most part idiots by most people’s standards. We accept and embrace that despite the ridicule because that’s who we are and we don’t care what others think. But more than that we’re family and if we’re going to be in a team with you then we had to be sure we could call you the same.

This time he stepped forward, close enough so there was only a slight span between himself and Hana ”So let’s drop all the stupid judgmental crap and help each other reach our goals like a real team.” Supaiku’s arm stretched up and his hand hung in the air between the pair as a gesture of good-faith.

If you fall down seven times, stand up eight.
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It isn't a matter of life or death, it's about what breaks first; your will or the barriers in your way.

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Re: | Rewriting the Pages | (Private)

PostPosted by Tsuuki » Sun Apr 06, 2014 2:55 pm

The fascinated buzz within his chest flickered and slowly suffocated in the vacuum of Hana's mood, her shift out of the fight telling of her insistence on perpetually being a stick in the mud. "Boooo," Tsuuki jeered with a smirk, face lowering to his working hands though his ears politely remained on yet another individual infuriated by his and Supaiku's unorthodox camaraderie. He rolled his hidden eyes as the lecture began, but as she went on he actually began to feel shame. Not for upsetting Hana nor for the portrait she painted of his honor, but for the reality that made her assumptions ironic. He of course knew Supaiku's story, and that his proud friend would not hesitate to fill her in on it, but Tsuuki had not as firm of a grasp on the complications of his own emotions, or the courage to openly share them.

For a subtle moment his right hand stopped sewing, reaching around his neck and over his shoulder as if to scratch an itch. His fingers softly stroke the face of the young blood-haired woman on his back, smoothing away tears that were not there. What had the village given to him? Nothing as precious as what it had taken away. The villagers feared the monsters outside their walls, never realizing that the largest and most ravenous beast of all of these ancient mountains was inside with them all along.

And he did want to help them, but just how to do it was a question tricky enough to send him pondering for years, each day less certain there was an answer and each night more convinced that it's easier to watch than resist. How do you make the change without becoming an instrument? As his fingers returned to working with the needle, he contemplated its situation and how it reflected this dilemma. Some meager amount of metal which had once been shapeless and indistinguishable within a larger mass, now given form, individuality, purpose, but what for? The needle was not shiny, sleek, or sharp for its own benefit, it was designed to serve a purpose given to it. And what is the matter with that? It's only metal, it does not have sentience to realize its own restricted existence--and even if it did, would the seamstress listen? As Hana made clear, people needed clothes, and it is the needle's purpose to clothe them. And if this special needle did somehow see its predicament and could rebel against the intentions of its user, it would then learn of the illusion of its individuality, for from the mass it had been born could come thousands of more needles, willing and untroubled to serve. Meanwhile the aware needle would continue to exist, losing its shimmer and sharpness over time, its purpose already long gone.

Tsuuki had stopped sewing, studying the needle closely as the world continued without him. Slowly he pressed the pad of one finger onto its point until it drew a drop of blood, and wondered if this made the needle feel any better.

Supaiku made a move that snapped the pensive Koumori's attention back to his own affairs, the needle's plight forgotten almost instantly. The Hantaa was not making an aggressive lunge as Tsuuki had briefly believed, instead closing the distance with Hana to offer his hand. Tsuuki's smirk returned, and he rose to his feet to clad himself in his own shoddy craftsmanship before taking the steps out of the shade and into the small shining circle.

"I admit I was hasty to underestimate you, Hana-kun, before I could even see what you were capable of. Perhaps that made me hasty to underestimate the potential of this team too, before any of us have even witnessed what we're capable of together," he said with reserved cheerfulness. He extended his hand to Hana as well.

"I didn't even properly introduce myself. I'm Tsuuki of the Koumori People. Let's see what this team can do."

Needles sew clothes, but they also stitch wounds.

Tsuuki cocked his head and pointed his nose at Hana's scroll. "What's with the scroll?"

"What's the point in joining if...


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...we have Mr. Half-Baked & Mr. Happy-Hour teaming up too?"
~ Ero-Kami

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PostPosted by Tsuneo » Wed Apr 09, 2014 10:50 pm

The scroll shook in her hand from anger that flowed into her grip.

"A test? You're trying to tell me that being a pair of lazy bastards is some sort of...badge of honor? That's it's something that needs to be accepted out of you?"

Language burned in the reaching fires of her mind. Her mouth worked at shapes and syllables, but for several seconds nothing coherent came out. She slammed scroll into Tsuuki's hand, rather than shaking it, and bared her grit teeth.

"I can't tell if you two are completely stupid or completely delusional, but you're both...completely...completely!"

A little cloud rose around her feet when she stamped over to their sensei.

"Is there a mission today, sensei? Cause if there's not, I'd like to go home so I can try and figure these two out."
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Re: | Rewriting the Pages | (Private)

PostPosted by Spike » Mon Oct 13, 2014 8:44 am

"Thankfully not, Hana-chan. I'm certain that's a benefit for the moment..." Dinn responded somberly as he turned his head towards the perplexing pair. The young Saihoushi had hit the nail on the head with the head with her lazy comments, unlike her they felt no commitment towards the village which geared towards training shinobi to serve and protect, benefit and help the village grow. They did what they wanted, with little regard to what others thought and minimal caution. Freedom was their motivator and even if they weren't exactly patriotic Dinn knew it was deeply rooted within their nature to help others.

Just in their own, strange way with methods that outsiders to their thought patterns like Hana would find so frustrating.

"I understand your thoughts on them, Hana-chan. Make no mistake, they don't intend to judge, they just want to know who you are." The older Hantaa continued, facing Hana with a faint smile. "Given time, I think you'll grow to understand them. Just be sure to allow them to understand you." Shinobi were built upon the foundation of stealth, leaving yourself vulnerable and allowing another to understand your thoughts, motives, dreams; that was a dangerous thing.

Yet the Jounin believed that if the three allowed themselves to understand one another, they would grow into a force to be reckoned.

"If you'll excuse me, I have some business to attend to away from the village. I shouldn't be gone longer than a few days, I'll send word to you all when I return." With that Dinn took his leave, giving a polite wave as he left the youngsters to their own devices.

While his brother spoke to Hana, Supaiku plucked the scroll prison his precious swords were kept in. With a burst of chakra Tasogare shot into the air, ready to be caught by it's master. With another, the scroll vanished, leaving two large kukri-like weapons in Supaiku's grasp. Like an ecstatic child, Supaiku quickly placed the sheathed blades in their rightful place on his back. After taking a moment to appreciate the familiar weight once more with him, he glanced towards Hana with a childish smirk as he threw his arm around Tsuuki's shoulders in a budding fashion.

"Pleasure meetin' ya Hana. Lookin' forward to the next meeting!" His tone, despite it's laxness held no sarcasm. In fact, it seemed the sword punk had taken a shine to the medic.

Spinning on his heel and guiding Tsuuki along with him, the pair would take their leave. Probably to go drink and laugh somewhere and perhaps get into some sort of shenanigans down the line.

"Purple's totally your colour, by the way~" Was hollered over his shoulder a moment later as he raised an arm in goodbye, never being one to relent on teasing despite the consequences.

If you fall down seven times, stand up eight.
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It isn't a matter of life or death, it's about what breaks first; your will or the barriers in your way.

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