[Kyōdai Jirou]

[attr="class","Im"]

[attr="class","really"] [attr="class","exhausted"]Your halo is slipping down to choke you now... [attr="class","rhythm"] ❝ Give the devil your little finger And he takes the whole hand. Shake hands with the Devil And he takes your soul... The night was creeping closer, the skies growing dull as the sun travelled closer to the horizon. The dusty road leading towards Arashi no Kuni, where the pouring rain and raging storms reigned, was lonesome, only a few travellers trotting along the path. One of these beings had mounted a horse, bareback and with a makeshift bridle. The brown steed walked at a leisurely pace, its rider following its movements, but mostly sitting still.  The rider had his hood pulled up, the black fabric casting shadows over his features and somehow his golden eyes seemed to glow faintly. The worn jacket with fur lining provided ample warmth and protection against the wind, the newly acquired shirt had yet to be ripped to shreds by some of the attacks the man knew he'd eventually face. The silver amulet hanging around his neck caught the few rays of sunlight which leaked through the clouds.  Jirou's katana hung at his hip, resting against his leg and taping the horse's side whenever it had to adjust its step to not step in a small hole or on a rock. In his hand, the cloaked figure carried a scythe, the leather-wrapped handle resting on his shoulder and the curved blade touching neither the man or the steed.  Jirou would eventually reach into his pocket, the reins still in hand, and pull out a map, but a sound would make the horse tense and dance a few steps forward, making the man pull on the reins and a wind snatched the map from his fingers.  SPOILER: Click to show JUTSU: - EQUIPMENT: Katana Earring Kami no Sukui/his scythe SA: - Shi no Bōshi [Death Prevention] ACTIVE - Shiji Hyōketsu [Death Controlling Possessed Blood] - Blessed Beast. ACTIVE - Medical knowledge - Ambidextrous ACTIVE (tagged)⏤ (notes)⏤ N/A

MADE BY MIZO

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[Mikazuki Aikawa]

❝

YEAH, I'LL BE GOOD, I'LL BE GOOD, FOR ALL OF THE TIMES THAT I NEVER COULD. MY PAST HAS TASTED BITTER FOR YEARS NOW, SO I WIELD AN IRON FIST. GRACE IS JUST WEAKNESS, OR SO I'VE BEEN TOLD. I'VE BEEN COLD, I'VE BEEN MERCILESS, BUT THE BLOOD ON MY HANDS SCARES ME TO DEATH; MAYBE I'M WAKING UP TODAY

❞

The storms were distant. Close, but not close enough. Only a haze of drizzle graced the world below, dampening the soil and glittering the blades of glass with gems of water. Mikazuki walked on the grass, not following any particular path but knowing the way. She was a bit deep in thought as she traveled, mind wandering back to a simpler time not wholly unlike this moment now. It was different, then. She was happier. More restricted, but, free. More free than she could ever have known at the time.
    Mikazuki reminisced over the last time she'd taken a solo mission outside of her native village. She'd just been a genin at the time, which wasn't normal procedure even then. But considering she'd merely been doing a C-ranked escort mission, of course she'd had to leave the village, and since the mission didn't require her to leave the country, it was acceptable enough. Even though she was a genin, even at the time she'd been more advanced for her rank...
    And now she was a chūnin. Free to roam between friendly countries and villages. Although, because of what she was, perhaps it wasn't the safest thing to do alone.
    But they weren't yet at a time of war. Hardly anyone knew of her identity.
    And she wasn't travelling a particularly busy road--she wasn't even travelling on the path, directly, even. Nobody knew who she was, and if anyone did, it was just Mikazuki Aikawa. Not anyone of any importance. Technically still considered a genin, since it'd been "Squeakers" who had taken and passed the chuunin exams.
    Actually, Mikazuki technically was a "civilian" by now.
    Though, right now, she was dressed in her usual gear. Black jacket with three red stripes, hair back to it's natural color now that the dye had faded out. Blue eyes. A mask.
    The mission she was returning from had been a simple one. On rare occasion she still liked to take on missions as herself, so long as they were simple, easy C-ranked ones and not anything that held any real risk. And, besides, nobody had to know what she was doing. Every once in a while, Mikazuki still wanted to... be herself.
    Not Squeakers.
    Not Himari.
    Not anyone else.
    Just Mikazuki.
    And she didn't feel herself if she wasn't taking a mission.
    The girl took in a deep breath of the cool misty air. She could sense that fog was on its way to the area, the mist starting to collect in hazy clouds near her feet and drifting gently upward to meet with its bretheren of clouds looming above. A gust of wind touseled her hair and--
    Smack!
    Right in the face, a piece of paper collided with her, and Mikazuki was quick to pull it away, looking at it briefly to take note that it was a map and--glancing upward and toward the trail she was moving alongside but not on, a horseman was travelling. Quite probably his map that had slipped from his grip.
    Well, Mikazuki liked to travel alone. And she'd planned to make the rest of the trip without going on the beaten path, since it was easiest to avoid people by veering slightly off from it, but... it'd be rude to just keep the map. What if she pissed the guy off by stealing it or letting it go? Better to just return it quickly...
    The chūnin walked quietly and--almost cautiously--to the horseman. Tilting her head up slightly to look at the man, she'd offer the paper back to him, though her eyes were calculative. Uneasy. "Here, I think this is yours?" Unless it'd truly just been carried by the wind from another country...

0618 WORDS ● Kyōdai Jirou ● MUSIC ● NOTES

deltra of gangnam style

[Kyōdai Jirou]

[attr="class","Im"]

[attr="class","really"] [attr="class","exhausted"]Your halo is slipping down to choke you now... [attr="class","rhythm"] ❝ Give the devil your little finger And he takes the whole hand. Shake hands with the Devil And he takes your soul... It was perhaps best to make camp as the rains were rolling in, albeit it was nothing but a drizzle at the moment. The hooded figure on his horse sorted out the reins and the poor beast he rode snorted as another snuck up on it, barely noticed save for the smell and muted sounds their boots made.  Jirou pulled the horse around on dancing hooves and grabbed the map from the stranger's hand. Pulling the horse to a stop, partly by the reins, partly by adjusting his weight and applying the right pressure on the equine's body.  "Damned wind..."  He mumbled as he unfolded the map and looked at it, studying where he was supposed to go from here. The dancing of the horse had somewhat opened the cloak and exposed part of the devout's bare chest and the silver necklace caught what little light there was to reflect in these late hours. If the other hadn't moved he'd fix the other with a disinterested glare.  "Ya ain't getting any payment for that"  SPOILER: Click to show JUTSU: - EQUIPMENT: Katana Earring Kami no Sukui/his scythe SA: - Shi no Bōshi [Death Prevention] ACTIVE - Shiji Hyōketsu [Death Controlling Possessed Blood] - Blessed Beast. ACTIVE - Medical knowledge - Ambidextrous ACTIVE (tagged)⏤ (notes)⏤ N/A

MADE BY MIZO

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[Mikazuki Aikawa]

❝

YEAH, I'LL BE GOOD, I'LL BE GOOD, FOR ALL OF THE TIMES THAT I NEVER COULD. MY PAST HAS TASTED BITTER FOR YEARS NOW, SO I WIELD AN IRON FIST. GRACE IS JUST WEAKNESS, OR SO I'VE BEEN TOLD. I'VE BEEN COLD, I'VE BEEN MERCILESS, BUT THE BLOOD ON MY HANDS SCARES ME TO DEATH; MAYBE I'M WAKING UP TODAY

❞

Mikazuki nodded, a little. She didn't need a thanks nor did she really want one. The map had smacked her in the face, she'd found its rightful owner and returned it to where it belonged. Simple, easy. She'd continue on her way, there was no need to further interact. She needed to return to Amegakure and it was starting to get rain. Drizzle graced what little skin she showed, and she knew how violent the storms could get if you didn't stay ahead of them.
    However, just as she was about to turn to leave, something caught her eye.
    A pendant, of sorts.
    A necklace with an emblem at the base of the chain.
    A very, very particular shape, and Mikazuki's baby blue eyes landed on the piece of jewelry and lingered there, surprise and recognition flashing across her features, albeit hidden under her dark mask.
    It was she symbol of Jashin.
    A shape she knew all too well.
    Memories flooded to her mind, back when she was a child. A pitiful existence, thriving in pain and suffering, flipping desperately through pages and studying them religiously. Jashinism. The myths, the legends, the beliefs, the commandments, the prayers, the rituals. The items she'd gathered like a groceries list, hidden deep in an alleyway where nobody would probably see her or try to stop find her. Hidden under some shelter, so she could scribe on dry cement with her blood, freshly spilled from a kitchen knife she'd stolen from her house.
    She'd been so close.
    Seconds away from converting, before her attention had been snagged by shinobi rushing by in a hurry which had gave her a sense of alarm. Then there was the distraction of the revelation that her home had been burned down--somehow--and her mother was dead.
    The image of her skull crushed in under the pressure of sharp beams of wood, hollowed eyes and a bloody brain there for the ten-year-old to witness.
    Mikazuki pulled away, stepping back.
    He was a Jashinist.
    She'd never met a Jashinist, before. But she knew just how dangerous they were. Of course she did. She'd nearly become one, herself. And although she didn't necessarily regret that she'd almost given her soul to that god, and though she still believed in him in heart, she recognized the danger she was in. She didn't know who he was, what he wanted, or how he would behave. And although she knew how to kill a Jashinist--rather, how to effectively stop one, since she'd wanted to be aware of the weaknesses she'd almost submitted herself to--she didn't want to engage in a fight. Not now, not ever. She recognized how dangerous a Jashinist was, and although she understood you could effectively immobilize a Jashinist by beheading them--one of the reasons why she'd trained specifically with beheading techniques as a genin--she knew it was just better to run. Not to engage. Not to piss them off and try to get out alive without causing a scene or starting a fight, if you could.
    And truly, she did not want to start a fight.
    But she recognized how risky this was. Considering who he was, what she was, and any complications that could blossom from an interaction. She needed to get out of there. Even if she wasn't a jinchūriki, it seemed like a foolishly dangerous situation to put oneself in knowingly.
    He suddenly snapped at her, his words reminding of where she was, and her head whipped up to look at him. Her eyes locked with his, deep and golden colored. Such an uncanny color, and such an unsettling gaze he had. "I wasn't planning to," she said quietly, carefully, holding her hands slightly in front of her as if trying to calm him down. Not that he necessarily seemed enraged, but Mikazuki didn't know him, and didn't want to risk angering him. It seemed like he wasn't going to attack her unprovoked, and she silently thanked--well, ironically, Jashin--for that. She glanced at the others who were travelling along the same path, and she wondered, Are they also all...?
    She didn't want to know.
    "Farewell on your travels," she said quickly, before turning and making a run for it. She was allowed the opportunity, he didn't seem like he wanted to continue to engage, and she fully intended to take full advantage of that.
    

SPOILER: Click to show

Enhanced Physical Trait
Due to her extensive training in her early ninja days, Mikazuki has heightened speed, stamina, and endurance. Every day that she has an opportunity to, she still trains to further strengthen each trait. This ability was not gained from heritage or being born into a clan.

0727 WORDS ● TAGGED ● MUSIC ● NOTES

deltra of gangnam style

[Kyōdai Jirou]

[attr="class","susurrus"]

[attr="class","jikan"] [attr="class","hiraeth"]山雨欲来风满楼

[attr="class","achee"] [attr="class","castleonthehill"] ❝ The girl was covered in black form head to toe more or less. A meek thing by the looks of it. She was rude enough to stare, her blue eyes mostly fixated on the silver hanging around his neck. Oh.  Oh.  That was recognition in her baby blues. He knew that from his years upon years of traveling and killing. Venegeful people often wore the expression, but so did people who knew too much about something or had escaped death by some means. And suddenly, the map savor was all the more interesting. She was on her way rather quickly though... His golden eyes narrowed as he watched her hurry along. Did he want to chase her? Surely the other travelers would think she stole something. Or they'd think him a rapist and slave trader. While true, it was trouble he didn't want to deal with now. However, those baby blues would be saved to his memory, logged away for a later date to compare to people he met with such pretty blue hues.  The heels were put to the horse and it continued on, its gait energetic without being uncontrollable.  ✉ tag -- ( @tag ) ✎ 000 words ※ notes here, please keep it short.

[attr="class","ache"]

MADE BY MIZO

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[Mikazuki Aikawa]

❝

YEAH, I'LL BE GOOD, I'LL BE GOOD, FOR ALL OF THE TIMES THAT I NEVER COULD. MY PAST HAS TASTED BITTER FOR YEARS NOW, SO I WIELD AN IRON FIST. GRACE IS JUST WEAKNESS, OR SO I'VE BEEN TOLD. I'VE BEEN COLD, I'VE BEEN MERCILESS, BUT THE BLOOD ON MY HANDS SCARES ME TO DEATH; MAYBE I'M WAKING UP TODAY

❞

He didn't chase after her, didn't try to confront her or start anything, and Mikazuki was silently grateful for such. Though, she wondered if it would be appropriate to thank Jashin for her escape, all things considered. Although she would glance back every few paces--just to make sure--and he didn't seem interested in pursuing her or furthering interaction. Good. Just let that be.
    She would continue on her way for hours, until, eventually, the sun set on the horizon and the world grew dark. Passing by some trees, the girl slowly came to a stop in her traverse. It might be bothersome to be ambushed in the darkness where things are more difficult to see, the girl thought. The moonlight illuminated the world around her, but only barely. Of course, it could be a challenge, but... Finding a place to stay the night might be equally as dangerous. At least she could wait it out until the sun rose, and then head back on her way.
    The young woman considered continuing to move--not taking any breaks or rest stops through the night, but decided against it. She wasn't exactly in the biggest rush to get back to Amegakure, as much as her anxiety told her she was.
    Sure, outside of her village was dangerous. Potentially very much so.
    But inside her village was miserable.
    At least she had some semblance of freedom whenever she took on missions out here.
    The girl considered setting up a barrier, as she so often did when she rested. But she wasn't truly going to be resting out here--and in a meditative state she was still aware of her surroundings. She wouldn't be sleeping into a deep sleep or anything of that nature--so any sounds or smells would still be perfectly detectable to her.
    Though, she considered it. Even just an extra cushion around her perimeter could add for some extra security...
    And she wouldn't create a campfire--it was too risky and just asking to attract trouble.
    Even if most people that wandered were probably just harmless travelers and civilian folk. She knew from experience it wasn't always the case, and it was better to be safe than sorry.
    Finally making up her mind, the girl took out a paper from her bag and a brush with ink.

0000 WORDS ● TAGGED ● MUSIC ● NOTES

deltra of gangnam style

[Kyōdai Jirou]

[attr="class","susurrus"]

[attr="class","jikan"] [attr="class","hiraeth"]山雨欲来风满楼

[attr="class","achee"] [attr="class","castleonthehill"] ❝ And so he would press on, the horse buzzing with life as it was for the next few hours, but then their path became much smaller and much darker. While he could press on, the horse was stumbling over stones and branches here and there, it grew annoying and he would dismount, dragging the horse through a little ways off road to find a fitting place to make camp. It wasn't until he found the perfect place he paused.  It was already occupied it seemed. His golden eyes narrowed. He didn't feel like wading through the forest with a half blind horse he had to basically carry around if so much as a squirrel made a sound. He would simply stare at the girl for a moment, then he barked at her,  "Yo, ya' not a thief, right? If you are I'll find you and cut your eyes out"  And with that he dragged the horse to the closest tree, tied it and threw his backpack down with a grunt. He was tired and hungry. He was, for lack of a better word, hangry.  He would scrape together some twigs and thick branches before plopping down and arranged them into a small fire, his flint from his pack was used and while it took a while, he'd eventually get a fire going.  ✉ tag -- ( @tag ) ✎ 000 words ※ notes here, please keep it short.

[attr="class","ache"]

MADE BY MIZO

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[Mikazuki Aikawa]

❝

YEAH, I'LL BE GOOD, I'LL BE GOOD, FOR ALL OF THE TIMES THAT I NEVER COULD. MY PAST HAS TASTED BITTER FOR YEARS NOW, SO I WIELD AN IRON FIST. GRACE IS JUST WEAKNESS, OR SO I'VE BEEN TOLD. I'VE BEEN COLD, I'VE BEEN MERCILESS, BUT THE BLOOD ON MY HANDS SCARES ME TO DEATH; MAYBE I'M WAKING UP TODAY

❞

Just before the girl could even scrawl down the first stroke of a kanji, a sound caught her attention and she looked up from her work, a stranger approaching her little settlement.
    No, not a stranger.
    Not exactly.
    It was the man from before--the jashinist.
    She froze in her spot as he barked an accusation at her, dragging his horse along as he headed over to a tree to string the creature up to it. He seemed perfectly content to invite himself into her space and claim it as his own. What--he was just going to make camp here? Couldn't he see it was occupied!
    Mikazuki didn't know how to respond to him, though.
    Thief? Did she look like a thief to him? Perhaps the mask was giving that impression. Even most shinobi she knew didn't tend to wear masks--unless they were JITE or ANBU, and even then, the masks usually resembled kabuki masks more than anything.
    She wondered if she could pass as a thief, instead of outing herself as a shinobi.
    She wondered which would be worse, considering his threats and her knowledge of the religion.
    "Why--are you missing something?" she questioned, her brow furrowing as she watched him gather sticks, creating the base for a fire. "I didn't take anything from you. In fact--I returned your map to you, didn't I? I don't want any trouble."
    She didn't know what to do. She should get out of here quickly. But causing trouble with him wasn't a good idea, either. She didn't know why he was here. Jashin must have felt like punishing her for something--this was a terrible string of rotten luck. There were so many impossible complications to this situation, and she didn't want to deal with any of them.
    Putting away her tools, then rolling up the tag, the girl slipped the paper inside of the front of her jacket. She stared at him, her baby blue eyes carefully scrutinizing the man. "You're not stalking me, are you?" If he was, that would probably be worse than just cursed luck. If it was just drawing the short straw of fate, at least she might be able to creep away. But if he was purposely following, she'd have to get more clever.
    But he couldn't know what she was.

0383 WORDS ● TAGGED ● MUSIC ● NOTES

deltra of gangnam style

[Kyōdai Jirou]

[newclass=.iwbtr-contain]--iwbtr-accent:#cc6666; --iwbtr-img:url("https://i.imgur.com/NNvIIo8.png");[/newclass]



[nospaces][googlefont=Roboto:400,700|Old+Standard+TT:400,400i,700]

[attr="class","iwbtr-contain"]

[attr="class","iwbtr-head"]

[attr="class","iwbtr-ly-1"]In Jashin we

[attr="class","iwbtr-ly-2"]Trust

[attr="class","iwbtr-body"]

[attr="class","iwbtr-text"]

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It didn't take the stranger long to jump to her own defense and, frankly, all it did was annoy him. Had he called her a thief? Yes. Had he said he was missing something? No. With a scoff he rolled his eyes and sat down to get the fire going. Rummaging through his bag for the fire flints he answered, "It was a warning, kid." [break]
He rearranged a few of the twigs and scraped some bark from a stick to serve as some easy flammable material. Man he wanted a warm meal... His golden eyes wandered to the stranger at her accusation. What did he look like? A fucking vagrant? Probably. "Giving yourself a bit too much credit, eh? If I was stalking you, I wouldn't be sitting here trying to get a fucking fire going..." He growled and sparked the flints, a few sparks catching the bark, another stroke and a small flame was coaxed forth. He tended to it, blew gently at it and soon it was devouring twigs and what other small things he fed it. Slowly it'd grow, catching more than twigs and as it worked at one of the small logs JIrou had supplied, the man would set up his own sleeping arrangement. The bedroll was worn, but kept the cold at bay, a brown paper bag was put down next to the small fire, a pot and a bottle of water joined soon after. He was not in the bests of moods... Especially not a chatty one, so when his utensils seemed to have found their way to the bottom of his bag he was ready to turn it over and shake it out, but instead he more or less threw his herbs and Jashin books over his shoulder and with an irritated growl he fetched the utensils, throwing them into the pot. Whatever had made it out of the bag which shouldn't have were put back and Jirou sat back down, tended to the fire and started to cut up pieces of the dried meat he had in the brown bag.  [break][break]

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Mikazuki Aikawa

[attr="class","iwbtr-credit"]SELKIE

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[Mikazuki Aikawa]

❝

YEAH, I'LL BE GOOD, I'LL BE GOOD, FOR ALL OF THE TIMES THAT I NEVER COULD. MY PAST HAS TASTED BITTER FOR YEARS NOW, SO I WIELD AN IRON FIST. GRACE IS JUST WEAKNESS, OR SO I'VE BEEN TOLD. I'VE BEEN COLD, I'VE BEEN MERCILESS, BUT THE BLOOD ON MY HANDS SCARES ME TO DEATH; MAYBE I'M WAKING UP TODAY

❞

It was a warning? Yeah. She should have taken it. Still, she was unsure exactly how to handle the situation. Of all situations she'd prepared herself for when she was a genin, she knew the hypothetical "I ran into a jashinist" one only had a single option: run. Get out of there. Don't engage, don't cause problems. Try to leave as quickly and quietly as you could. She knew just being here was dangerous. Being a thief was bad, being a shinobi was bad, she doubted she could pass as a civilian.
    What to do, what to do...
    "Well, I'm not a thief. So please leave my eyes alone," the girl returned calmly. He'd given her a second chance to give a better answer, she was going to take it. She would roll up the blank scroll on her lap and slip it away into one of her pouches, her writing utensils going along with it. He was busy making a fire, this was the time to go.
    As she rose to her feet, the man shuffled around his belongings, searching for something. Judging by how he'd collected the wood for a fire, she guessed it'd be a lighter or flint of some sort. She didn't care to find out.
    Some books fell out from his sack, among other things.
    Her baby blues landed on them and she paused, for a moment. She knew those books--nearly every page of every volume, even. She'd read and studied them as a child, memorizing the scriptures, the commandments--the prayers. Of course, these were different copies--though they looked equally as old as the ones in her library had been. Though, perhaps, the ones she'd borrowed as a child had been in worse condition--damaged and thrown around, misused and abused over the decades. Not by her, of course. She'd always been one to take good care of her books and scrolls.
    They'd been everything to her.
    Her one glimpse of hope and inspiration.
    And those books, especially.
    It had been a hope for salvation from her pitiful life. A promise of strength. A blessing of all pain being taken from you. Immortal life.
    And when she'd been dying, and weak, knowing nothing but pain and suffering and neglect and loneliness--an impending doom hanging over her head, as death lurked at every corner and shadowed in her footsteps... it had seemed like such a paradise. Strength. No pain. No fear of death.
    She was getting distracted.
    This wasn't the time to reminisce.
    "Well I'd hate to bother you, so I'll leave you be. I wish you farewell on your travels, stranger," the girl stated simply as she turned to leave. Get out, get out, get out. She wouldn't move with any sense of urgency or panic, and it took all of her will to begin heading off with a calmness in her step.

0477 WORDS ● TAGGED ● MUSIC ● NOTES

deltra of gangnam style

[Kyōdai Jirou]

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Jirou would keep cooking as the other seemed to mull over his words. His attention would remain on the food and started to prepare it, slowly starting to transfer dried meat into the pot and some mushrooms. When the other moved, golden eyes rose to lock onto her as she moved. [break][break]
Well I'd hate to bother you, so I'll leave you be. I wish you farewell on your travels, stranger,
[break][break]Golden eyes narrowed, following every move she made as she made her way out. And then? He shrugged and went back to tending to his fire. If he drove the other away and gained a perfectly good campsite, well he'd take it. It was better than sleeping on the horse or in some ditch somewhere in an attempt to hide from the wind. Slowly his imitation of a stew would combine and start to simmer. As it did Jirou found his book, sat back against his backpack and started reading for a spell. [break][break]
Once the food was done, he poured it into his bowl and started eating, munching away until none was left. A quick rinse of the bowl and with a hand on his katana he would get to bed.

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tag

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