[Katananaka Tsumetsu]

Somehow, though he had spent close to over a year locked away in his apartment, mainly his own room, nowadays the thought of going home to his empty abode was agonizing. Nerve-wracking. Made him anxious.

So he usually finds himself on the streets late throughout the night, sometimes for as long as into the early morning hours. Hell, sometimes he didn't even make it home before the sun rose - and tonight happened to be one of those nights. It's three in the a.m. and the sun is scheduled to start peeking over the horizon in due time, even if it does very little to cast sunshine across dreary Amegakure. Kat thought watching the ordeal might be nice, so he cuts out of Ichiba in favor of taking to the empty subway. His designation is Arashi Teien, the storm garden, where he often spent the mornings with the sun.

Even though he's wearing his hoodie over layers of clothes, Kat is soaked to the first. Once he's down in Chikatetsu, safe from the pouring rain outside, he gives a dutiful shake from head to toe. Blond hair sticks to his face, and blowing at it gives no relief. He tucks wet locks behind an ear, looks one way down the subway, then the next-

A loud, far-off noise that sounds like the grinding of metal on metal, or perhaps a stifled scream, startles him - but the only indication of disturbance he gives is a fluttering blink. His hand touches the hilt of Hi to Kōri instinctively as he steps further into the underways, almost annoyed by the buzzing lights overhead attempting to distract him from the mysterious commotion. 

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279

[Gima Naoya]

CRASH!!

Startled, a wave of electricity coursed through Naoya's form as he backed into the ladder that supported all of the hoodlum duo's supplies. A futile attempt was made to spare the open space the fall, the guarantee of cacophonous metal striking rail unwelcome, but it was a forgone conclusion. Naoya watched as the tin pail which held their random mixture of rattle cans crashed to the ground, its impact echoing down the length of the subway tunnel.

So much for subtlety. But then, who would be down in the subway system at three in the morning anyway?

The boy shot his partner-in-crime an only mildly frazzled look, an admission of guilt and an apology in one, before walking over to pick up the mess he'd made. The paints were all obviously meant for utility use, shades of red, yellow and brown dominated the palette. Somewhere far down the way, a grey to match the walls was cast off in some effort to 'prolong their art'.

The pair was far enough down the tunnel that they likely wouldn't have heard the new arrival on the platform; Naoya, at the very least, was completely unaware.

If the scene didn't paint a clear enough picture at first glance, the two teens had been up late, wandering the streets of Amegakure, and stumbled across an assortment of spray paints just begging to be used to make the kind of amateur tag that would leave anyone wanting. Naoya at least had enough patience to make some halfway recognizable images, though that almost made them worse for their 'try-hard' quality. His partner on the other hand... well, her stuff was at least unique.

takeda sadako & Katananaka Tsumetsu

[googlefont=Gloria Hallelujah]

[takeda sadako]

KILLING YOUR IDOLS IS A CHORE

"Shit.” Quick as a flash Sadako snatched at Naoya’s jacket, pulling him away from the ladder and its precarious treasure trove. She let him go once he was steady so he could go clean up his mess—but she frowned, peering at the ground as if seeing the train tracks for the first time. Which one was the third rail, again? Hopefully not the one they were straddling to get to the tunnel wall. "Toss me the red,” she said, holding a hand out expectantly as Naoya gathered up all the paint. Sadako had never really considered herself much of an artist—total waste of time—but looking at her handiwork so far, she was starting to think that in another life she’d have made a pretty damn good painter. Abstracts, maybe. Naoya’s tags were more legible than hers, but Sadako’s were more artistic. Put that shit in a gallery with a price tag and she’d be famous in a week. Her next project was a smear of something that might have looked vaguely bat-shaped, if you looked at it from the right angle and were feeling generous. Coats of Takeda red splattering across the stone, she crafted something that she thought Sanosuke would definitely want to stitch onto his outfits someday, the kind of personal sigil that would be etched into the annals of history. As she sprayed one lopsided wing, the can hissed and rattled uselessly—empty. Huffing, Sadako tossed it over one shoulder where it clanged and banged against metal and stone. At least Naoya was out of the line of fire. Turning from her work, she stepped carefully over each rail until she had slunk up to Naoya’s side, inspecting the cans he had re-gathered. "Got the same shade?” she asked. "It needs to match.” If anyone was coming to investigate the noise they were making, Sadako didn’t notice; she was too focused on the task at hand, her and Naoya leaving their mark on Amegakure’s roots.

Katananaka Tsumetsu Gima Naoya -- 329

LAIKA OF THQ

[Katananaka Tsumetsu]

Hand still touching the hilt of his brother's blade, Kat follows the noise with some trepidation, much curiosity. It echoed oddly at first, but it was not too far away - looking up and down the platform, he was sure it had not been anything too scary. Rats knocking things over maybe? He untenses, though still wanders in the direction of the noise.

His ears perk at the sound of a voice. That too echoes just a bit. Right away, Kat can tell it's coming from inside the tunnels.

Against his better judgement, hoping his curiosity would not suffer him the same fate as a cat, Kat leans over the platform to look through one tunnel, then the next - the one harboring a voice. Not so carefully, he jumps down onto the tracks but does not stumble so much. Sticking his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie, the genin ambles deeper until he catches the culprits. They seem too invested in their schemes to notice him, so he makes it only a few feet away from the pair to quietly observe. He assumed them to be brother and sister, left to think about his own brother - a man who would have been very much against what they were doing, and so Kat felt a swell of something. He tried not to think about it.

Not wanting to be rude, he announces himself. "Uh. Hey."

Casually, he strolls a bit closer, gandering at the wall they both stand at. It seemed to be the young ravenette boy's work. It was... well, they were ninja, not artists. He could appreciate the work nonetheless. "Cool."

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Gima Naoya | takeda sadako | 273