[Sora Minami]

Sora had never been to Arashi no Kuni before. Her trip had been something of a convoluted one; a straight shot from Mizu no Kuni to Ame simply didn’t exist, not when Hi no Kuni sat smack dab in the middle of the bloody continent, but there were routes. The ship she had chartered had taken her around the tip of Tea Country and up into River Country, where she had switched vessels for a river boat that had brought her up to Zosha Pass, the southern entry point into the country. Despite a slight hiccup involving the local Shinobi, she hadn’t had any real problems getting in, not once she explained the situation. Getting to Amegakure, however, was a very different matter.

Her missive from the Mizukage had gotten her into the country, but entering Amegakure was a task in and of itself; it was one of the most secure places on the continent, and one couldn’t just walk up to the gates and request permission to come inside. You needed a reason, an escort and, more than likely, a sponsor. Not that she knew any of this for certain, of course. Toru was supposed to have sent word ahead of her impending arrival… but Ame-nin were a paranoid lot by default, and there was no telling what awaited her. Or who.

Still, the Kiri Jounin did what she could, following protocol and taking the proscribed routes given to her by the Shinobi at the border, traveling through the beautiful Bandai Prefecture, site of hundreds of battles, before making her way across one of the massive bridges that spanned the huge lake that surrounded Ame.

She was soaked, of course, drenched from head to toe despite wearing her best oiled leather cloak to hold back the rain- but as she strolled down the bridge, Samidare at her hip, she took a moment to appreciate the sprawling, towering monument that was the Village Hidden in the Rain. Whatever awaited her here, whatever she uncovered… it would be the end. For good or ill, this was the last stop on her quest for answers.

Now, let’s go meet the welcoming committee…

takeda sadako

[takeda sadako]

The trouble with getting strong-armed into being a diplomatic escort and threatened with severe punishment if she didn’t watch her fucking mouth while she did it, Sadako reflected, was that once she’d acquiesced the first time, she just kept getting shoved into it. She’d muddled through escorting that one Yuki-nin around just fine, and she had mostly behaved herself on her visits to Kiri and Iwa, and now that she could apparently be trusted to get through a conversation with a stranger without arbitrarily insulting their mother, it seemed that she was the go-to for babysitting duty. Sadako was starting to think that she needed to start kicking up some shit again. This sucked. The welcoming committee, on the tin, would appear to just be Sadako—half her charge’s age and with a fraction of the experience, it must have seemed comical that one genin was tasked with keeping tabs on a foreign jounin. But the heavy rain kept Amegakure well-informed, and Sadako knew well ahead of time that a JITE operative or two would be on standby—she was just the designated escort, as fucking hilarious as that was. Minami Sora. Sadako was prepared to dismiss the woman out of hand for being exactly what she was—a foreigner on a stupidly vain Vision Quest to find some random distant relative that had absolutely no impact on her life. One of the consequences of middle age, Sadako assumed; once you got old enough you started caring a lot about really dumb shit that didn’t matter, and that was a universally true experience from her observation. Once the woman came into view—pink hair utterly drenched, a real nice looking sword at her hip—Sadako schooled her expression into careful neutrality, mentally preparing herself for what was absolutely about to be a devastatingly boring day. "Minami Sora.” Sadako tilted her head to the gate guard, who waited expectantly for the Kirigakure jounin’s identification and papers. "Takeda Sadako. I’m your escort. Once you check in we can go. What’s your first destination.” Careful neutrality veered too sharply into stony apathy, though mercifully she hadn’t yet gone completely over the bend into straight-up attitude. Still, a clear and marked improvement from her experience with Hizou.

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[Sora Minami]

Sora saw the lone girl standing at the gate and knew, almost immediately, what Ame had done. At five seven, the teen stood a fair few inches shorter than her, but by the way her clothes bulged around the shoulders and chest, the Kiri-nin had a feeling her escort weighed more- and not because she was fat. Most would have pegged the young woman as being a few years past twenty, but the pink-haired Jounin had spent too much time around petulant teens to not recognize the glint of rebellion hanging on the edge of her escort’s eyes; this was a teenager, sixteen at the oldest, who had been pressed ganged into watching after a foreign ninja. And she was not happy about it.

"Of course." She said once the girl had finished her piece, reaching into her cloak and sliding her (thankfully waterproofed) identification card, along with the letter from Toru detailing her reasons for visiting Ame. While the gate guard looked her documents over, Sora turned her attention to the girl, Sadako, a soft, knowing smile on her face. She’d heard of the Takeda, though her knowledge of what they did was limited; fierce fighters, prone to focusing on Tai and Bukijutsu, with a penchant for being highly aggressive and deadly on the battlefield. Not unlike herself, in some respects.

"Well, that’s the thing." Sora said once the gate guard handed her back her documents, tucking the precious bits of paper away before they got too wet. "I don’t really know where to start. I’ve only got a name to go off of- and to be honest, I don’t even think it's a proper name." She wouldn’t have even been here had it not been for that old archivist and the even older Bingo Book entry, which hadn’t had a lick of information about "Kuroshi” beyond the name and a warning not to engage in direct combat.

"I guess we’ll just have to start at the archives." She said after a moment, shaking her head as the rain continued to pour. God, was it always this bloody stormy? How did they stand it? How did they drain it all? "Unless you know a place to look up info on whoever the hell ‘Kuroshi’ was." Her tone was light- a joke, something to maybe break the ice and get the girl talking, if only to make her job easier. She’d been put on bitch-duty plenty of times in the Hunter Corps, made to follow after a foreign ninja for no other reason than they were in town. She knew how much it sucked, being forced to spend time you could have used elsewhere watching over some idiot from another country. It sucked, but there was no reason she had to make things worse for the kid.

takeda sadako

[takeda sadako]

Sadako viciously beat down the urge to roll her eyes at Sora’s confession of I don’t know. Irritating fucking— She turned, gesturing with a tilt of her head for Sora to follow as she led the way into the village proper. No fuckin’ way they’d be getting into the Red Tower—the next best place would be Susano Tower, to the Watch Corps HQ. If they didn’t have the information this lady wanted, then they could at least point her to exactly who did. Kuroshi tickled something in the back of her mind, though. Sadako frowned, her expression pinched and thoughtful. Not that Kuroshi, right? What the fuck would a random Kiri-nin have to do with ancient Takeda clan history? "Any more information?” she asked, the barest slant of genuine curiosity eking its way into her perpetually bored tone. "Context’ll help the Watch Corps figure out what files we’re allowed to sort through—” She had turned to glance at her charge and abruptly cut herself off as she realized that the Kiri-nin was even more ill-prepared for the constant deluge than she’d thought. Sadako had seen with her eyeballs that the woman was wet, but that raincloak was fucking useless. Her own hood was deep and drawn up around her head, her hair and face safely dry within its confines; with her hands tucked into her pockets, she was safely cocooned and perfectly comfortable. "C’mon, pit stop,” she said, veering sharply down a side street to re-navigate to a nearby clothing store. "You need a better jacket. The rain’s not gonna stop and you’re gonna be fu—uh, miserable.”

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[Sora Minami]

To say that the teen’s disdain for her quest bled through her iron-gritted teeth would have been disingenuous; Sadako seemed a pleasant enough girl (if a bit rough around the edges), but it was as plain as day that she would have much rather been anywhere else, doing anything else, than babysitting some stranger. Sora didn’t blame the girl for the sentiment –had she been in her shoes at that age, she likely would have felt the same– but that didn’t mean she couldn’t do something about it. Particularly given how much she seemed to be working to keep her tongue in check.

"You can curse around me, kid. I’m not a dainty wallflower whose ears will burn if you say ‘fuck.’” She said, following after the teen as she spoke, her raincoat a wet mess of leather that simply was not doing what it was meant to. It had held up well enough on the trip into the country, but once she’d gotten into the rain that seemed to perpetually drench Ame, the thing had started to break down, soaking through until every inch of her skin was clammy with the cold. The pink-haired Jounin had been through worse- but the idea of getting inside was certainly an appealing one.

And as for her question…

"Not really.” Sora said, shrugging her shoulders as the pair of the shifted gears, slipping down a side-alley in order to find her a new jacket that would actually repel the rain properly. "I’ve got a rough date for when the guy would have defected from the village, though it’s not exact. Sometime before 920, if the information I found is right." It wasn’t much to go on, but it was more than nothing- hopefully, whoever they spoke with in whatever building they ended up in had a way of digging up more information. Like a real name. Or some living relatives, if there are any left…

takeda sadako

[takeda sadako]

Sadako snorted despite herself, startled into the expression of a single emotion by someone so much older than her—and a jounin at that—saying the fuck-word so cavalierly. But then, she hadn’t really spent that much time around people who weren’t other genin, or her tightly-wound sensei who was always up her ass about her manners, or Squeakers who was liable to beat the shit out of her if she stepped the wrong way. Some of her tension bled away, though Sadako herself was barely cognizant of it. The clothing store was brightly-lit and warm inside; Sadako made a beeline for a long rack of jackets, flicking through hangers full of neoprene-coated fabric until she found something that looked like it generally suited Sora’s figure and aesthetic. A slightly desaturated blue with a muted, subtle red floral pattern around the trim—Sadako was pulling it off the rack when she stopped short, clutching the rubbery fabric tightly in her fingers. "I mean,” she said, then paused, tugging her lip harshly between her teeth. Was she being set up or something? Was Lord Sixth trying to punk her with a pop quiz on clan history? "Maybe there’s more than one, I dunno, but there’s a Kuroshi in my clan’s history who defected around that time. Big blowup with an ideological split. The Preceptors love teaching fucking everything under like ten layers of allegories so I don’t know a lot of the actual details but they definitely called him Kuroshi.” Realizing she was still holding the jacket, she abruptly thrust it into Sora’s hands before jamming her fists into her pockets. "Could be a different guy, though,” she said quickly, issuing a disclaimer as if trying to account for the idea of rejection, that Sora would dismiss her idea out of hand. "I dunno.”

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[Sora Minami]

Sora saw, perhaps more clearly than the girl herself, some of the tension bleed away from Sadako’s frame at the realization that she could curse, her body language loosening up as they walked, amusement writ clear across her features. Perhaps it was simply her age showing, but the way the Ame-nin spoke, the stiffness in her posture, the massive chip on her shoulder… Reminds me of me, when I was her age.

Stepping into the store with a sigh, the pair of Kunoichi went immediately to the back, where a long rack of jackets and cloaks sat, waiting to be torn into, which the teen did with suitable aplomb. Coats went flying, cloaks were tossed to the floor, and just about every piece of clothing was thrown aside one way or another, the clerks looking on in quiet but knowing horror as Sadako at last settled on something that might fit: a soft, muted blue with a red floral pattern along the trim, cut for a woman who carried a blade. It was perfect, really.

Then the girl spoke, and her heart skipped a beat.

That’s crazy. She thought as the Genin thrust the jacket into her hands, not looking her directly in the eyes as she spoke. Clearly, the Takeda girl had reservations about the information, her own doubts and insecurities shining through despite the seemingly perfect connection. The coincidence strained credulity, her cynicism screaming that it had to be some kind of trap, or at the very least a joke- life simply didn’t work out that way. There were rarely ever any clear answers, and certainly not something as clear-cut as this. And yet.

"What could it hurt?" Sora mumbled, more to herself than anything else, her sky-blue gaze lingering on the jacket as she went over what Sadako had said would cost her. A day, maybe two if she was unlucky. That still left five days, at the worst, for her to look through whatever archives Ame would let her access. And if she wasn’t wrong… The storm inside of her stirred, a quiet rumble of thunder and violence, her gears grinding as she thought through the implications.

Fuck it. The Jounin thought, letting loose a low breath as she shook her head clear and undid the buttons on her sopping wet coat before doffing it onto the floor with an apologetic look to the attendant nearby. She donned the new one just as quickly, the heavy, rubber-like material covering her entire body as she turned her attention back towards Sadako, voice firm and serious despite how silly she felt for wearing a raincoat over sopping wet clothes. "We’ll check with your clan first."

It was probably nothing, a coincidence that led to nowhere, but she had to check. For own sanity, if nothing else.

takeda sadako

[takeda sadako]

Sora’s old coat hit the floor with a wet splat and Sadako craned her head around with the look of a dog who had just been caught eating something she wasn’t supposed to—the annoyed, resigned expression on the shop attendant’s face set something hard in her jaw, and she took a couple of seconds to fix the mess that she had been responsible for as she had gone through everything on the rack. It wasn’t perfect, and it certainly wasn’t in order, but at least shit was off the floor. She grumbled a half-hearted sorry as she went up to the counter and paid, barely listening to the price before counting out bills and coins and leading the way back out into the torrential downpour outside. Money had never been something she’d worried about even at the best of times, and her mind was thoroughly elsewhere: delving through the depths of her memory to dredge up anything she could think of on this Kuroshi guy. The Takeda compound wasn’t too far off from the Red Tower, so they were largely still headed in the same direction, just with a couple of different turns along the way. Sadako told Sora the story she remembered as they walked, the pace she set clipped and eager to reach their destination as quickly as possible without outright running,. She talked about the rarity of the pure Takeda bloodline: the origin of the Devil Queen and the lover who had won her heart, the descendent known as the "Soft Devil” who sought to unite the clan under a single banner, the Devil Knight Kuroshi who had gathered a faction of impure Takedas and tried to take power for his own. She was almost reverent in how she talked about him—there was an edge of hero-worship present in her tone, in much the way that someone would talk about an ancestor with an impressive legacy… though, presumably, not a nuke-nin who had been exiled after a failed coup. Sadako got them through the gates of the compound and led the way to the library—unable to resist pointing out her own home on the way there, a slick kind of pride present in the way she said that’s mine and my aunt’s house, as she gestured vaguely towards the large, comfortable-looking home—where she stopped short in front of the desk clerk, who looked at her with all the world-weary disapproval of someone who was extremely used to Sadako’s antics. "This,” she said, jabbing her thumb at her companion, "is Minami Sora. She’s visiting from Kiri and looking into genealogy, family tree shit. We need information about Kuroshi, and also she needs a change of clothes cuz her coat sucked shit.”

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[Sora Minami]

Sora helped the young Ame Genin clean up their mess without a word, her thoughts drifting from one possibility to the next. It was unlikely that the girl’s ancestor was the man she was looking for, but the more she thought about it, the more the pink-haired woman felt… something. Not an understanding, but an echo, as if there was a pull deep in her soul that was slowly tugging her in the right direction. So distracted was she by this feeling that the Kiri Jounin didn’t even notice Sadako paying for her coat until it was too late, the money exchanged and receipt written before she could even reach for her wallet.

"You didn’t have to pay for it. I’m a Jounin- I’ve got money." She said as she followed after the girl, her lips pursed in a thin, tight line. Still, there was no point in trying to pay her back in the pouring rain; she would do it though, later, when they were inside and there wasn’t a chance for the girl to push her off. For now, she followed after the Genin at a clipped pace… and listened. The Ame-girl’s information on Kuroshi (if he was indeed the man she was looking for) was scant, little more than bedtime stories relayed to children, but it was more than what she had heard or read in any of the scrolls and letters she’d been pouring over for the last few months.

So, wait. He tried to kill this… ‘Soft Devil,’ failed, and got thrown out on his ass?" Sora thought, the rain lashing at her new coat to no avail as the pair made their way down a side alley, a set of massive gates looming ahead. She could just about make out the front of the compound through the rain; a pair of massive, wrought iron gates, and beyond, a sprawling complex of traditional looking houses and buildings that looked severely out of place in the modern, sleek center of Amegakure.

Nice. She thought as the girl brought her through the gates, getting a quick glance in at the too-large-for-her house Sadako pointed out, the gears in her head grinding through the fact that she, apparently, lived with her aunt and not her parents. Eventually, the two of them made their inside a large, multi-leveled building, the front desk manned by a thin, middle-aged man who looked like he was simultaneously tired of everyone’s bullshit and too weary to bother to deal with anything. Especially a teenager.

"Your story doesn’t make much sense, you know." Sora said once the man got up, mumbling something about needing to speak to one of the Elders, her eyes focusing on Sadako as she stood there, dripping water on the nice hardwood floor, her voice calm and focused despite the slight chill that was creeping through her limbs. "If Kuroshi was such a threat, there’s no way they would have let him live after getting beaten by the Soft Devil’s guards. Not unless they were somehow less ruthless back then than today, which…" Well. It strained credulity to say the least.

Regardless of if Sadako’s Kuroshi was indeed the man she was looking for, the Jounin was invested now; there was a mystery to be solved, however small and tangential to her actual goal. And if there was one thing she had learned during her hunt for the truth, it was that she was damn good at unraveling mysteries.

takeda sadako

[takeda sadako]

Sadako adamantly did not look at the woman, suddenly self-conscious about… having paid? The acknowledgement that she had paid? She hadn’t even thought about it, really, but now that she was being made to think about it she felt exposed in a way that she concretely did not enjoy. So she said nothing in response, only offered a half-hearted shrug without making eye contact. The clerk left to go grab whoever it was he needed to grab. Sadako leaned over his desk, peeking at the papers and books he had left behind; seeing nothing of interest to her, she exhaling, blowing her too-long fringe out of her face and leaning on the rich, carefully-polished dark wood of the desk. She considered what Sora said about Kuroshi’s story, but she dismissed it out of hand. "Nah,” she said, shaking her head. There was a dash of pride as she straightened her posture—talking about her family’s legacy, and counting herself among their number. "We don’t fuck around, but you don’t turn your back on family. Kin’s all we got, you know? That’s what Kuroshi was fighting for, and it’s also why they wouldn’t kill him—cuz they knew he was right.” The clerk came back with two Preceptors in tow; one of them Sadako was very familiar with, and she stopped leaning on the desk instantly, her nose wrinkling with distaste. "Preceptors are the teachers and historians and they really do not fuck aro—,” Sadako whispered to Sora, but she was cut off by Preceptor Akio sharply chiding, "Sadako, language,” and she fell silent with a huff. "A pleasure to meet you, Minami Sora,” Preceptor Akio said, bowing politely. "I am Akio, and this is my colleague Mai. A little of your situation has been explained to us, but I would like to hear from you directly—what is your interest in Kuroshi, and in the history of the Takeda?”

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[Sora Minami]

"No, really. Think about it." Sora said, her voice calm but insistent as she chewed over the information Sadako had relayed to her again, lips pursing in a thin, wry smile. "He wasn’t family then, he was an attacker trying to kill their lord. I don’t any bodyguard that would honestly-"

The Kiri woman paused then as the trio of men walked out, her gaze flicking between the teen’s suddenly rigid posture and the Preceptors equally rigid frames, her wry smile fading to a flat, empty look of quiet annoyance. The man and woman before her had the look of bureaucrats; both were thoroughly average, sporting the same dark hair and eyes, though the woman was the younger by a good twenty years, putting the old man somewhere in his later fifties to early sixties. The way the man chided Sadako on her language, almost like a schoolteacher, confirmed that fact well before he turned his attention her way.

"Family, Akio-san." She said after a moment, her sky-blue gaze extraordinarily calm despite the drumbeat of her heart that was ringing across her ears. "I’ve a reasonable suspicion to believe that this… ‘Kuroshi’ is actually my great-grandfather." She stopped then, glancing between the two Preceptors to gauge their reaction, if there was one, to such news. After a moment, the pink haired woman reached into her soaking wet clothes and pulled out a large, sealed package, presenting it to Mai while she continued on.

"The evidence is circumstantial, but I was able to trace his path from here to Bonchi no Kuni with a fair degree of accuracy. This is a copy of everything I’ve collected, if you wish to check my sources. As to why it matters to me, well…" Another pause then, allowing Mai to take her package and, perhaps, peruse through it for a few moments should the older woman wish. Her gaze doesn’t leave Akio’s face the entire time though, eyes boring down on the older man with all the force of will she can muster, her voice calm but sharp as she speaks again, unbending in her tone and posture, like a blade ready to cut.

"I don’t fuck around when it comes to family."

takeda sadako

[takeda sadako]

Sadako shook her head fiercely in response to Sora’s argument, mentally stacking up her own counter-arguments even as the older woman was still speaking, but she never got the chance. She looked back and forth between Sora and the Preceptors as they spoke as if she were watching an especially riveting tennis game, unable to conceal her interest in what was going on. Kuroshi is actually my great-grandfather. "What the fuck?” Sadako said, and for once Preceptor Akio didn’t chide her; though his reaction was much more controlled, stroking his chin and looking at Sora with renewed interest, it was clear that he was as gobsmacked by this revelation as Sadako was. Mai took the package that Sora handed over, and after quietly conferring with the receptionist, spoke up. "I would like to cross-reference what you’ve gathered with our own documentation of Kuroshi’s history, if you’re amenable,” Mai said. "We’ll be careful to keep everything in proper order and return it in the same condition it was given to us, and should your information prove to line up with our own sources, we would of course be making copies for our own records. If this is acceptable?” Sadako was practically vibrating in place, unable to contain the sudden wash of genuine interest that took over her. "Preceptor,” she blurted, "you have to test her. All the documentation is cool ‘n interesting ‘n shit, but if she’s really got Kuroshi’s blood then she’s gotta be able to do the Devil Bringer, there’s no way she can’t—” "Easy, Sadako,” Preceptor Akio said, though his tone was far less chiding than it had been before. He had turned thoughtful, though Sadako had no idea what he was thinking. "Our guest has traveled far, and there’s no need to rush these things. Allow Preceptor Mai to do her work, and the rest will come with time. Minami-san, how much time have you allotted to remain in Amegakure? We will provide for your lodgings—Sadako, you can take her to the guest house down the street from your aunt’s home, and ask Auntie Nana to set her up with a room and dry clothes.” He paused, thoughtful, then said, "Thank you for bringing this to our attention. There is nothing more important to the Takeda than kin—something I hope you will grow to learn in your time here.”

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[Sora Minami]

Sora saw the surprise ripple through the Preceptors, her sky-blue gaze lingering on Akio’s face as he took a single step back, Mai stepping in to take the documents she had provided. There was a buzz of electric excitement emanating from Sadako, the teen practically vibrating with interest as she spoke up, mentioning blood and a Devil Bringers and how she simply had to be tested, a notion that the elder Takeda shut down rather quickly, albeit with far less sharpness than before. Perhaps her veiled (or not so veiled) hostility had convinced him to lay off, if only a little. Or he’s too surprised to care.

"Keep it. I’ve another copy on me, along with all the originals back in Kirigakure." She said to Mai, her voice devoid of the edge it had held just a few moments before as she stepped back, looking now to the youngest one in the room, smiling slightly. "Hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I don’t have anything even close to a ‘Devil Bringer,’ whatever that is. Appreciate the vote of confidence though." That said, she turned her attention back to Akio, resting her right hand on her hip as he spoke, his tone less hostile than before, but still clearly dubious.

"The Mizukage gave me a week before I had to start heading back, so… six more days?" The Kiri Jounin said, taking in a long, slow breath as she glanced back at Sadako, who was still clearly far more excited at the prospect of meeting a descendant of Kuroshi than anything else. Still, there were questions she wanted answered- information the teen likely didn’t have access to, both as a Genin and a teenager. "Sadako’s told me some of Kuroshi’s history, Preceptor, but I’ve a few questions about him I think only one of your group can answer. Like what his actual name was…"

She paused then, a thought crossing her mind as she looked at the girl- and, before she could think about it, asked a question that was likely to step on a good number of toes.

"...And why your historians lied about him losing to the Soft Devil’s bodyguard."

takeda sadako

[takeda sadako]

Mai nodded once and absconded with the paperwork post-haste, taking it back into the depths of the library with the librarian in tow, whispering a conversation between themselves as they rifled through papers, too eager to wait to sit down before either of them started reading. Akio was more composed in the face of this information, stroking his beard thoughtfully as he leveled a pensive gaze at the woman, her story, and her adamant assertion that she had nothing even close to a Devil Bringer. Sadako was persistent despite Akio’s mild admonishment, utterly certain that Sora should and could be able to perform the signature technique of their bloodline ability—but she kept her mouth shut for the time being, far too invested in the conversation happening in front of her to risk interrupting again. "I wish there was more time,” Akio replied, "but it will suffice.” It was fortunate for Sora that Mai and the librarian were not still in the room when she asked the more volatile of her questions, as they surely both would have been outraged; Sadako, for her part, just whispered an awed oh fuck yeah under her breath, while Akio was utterly unfazed, scrutinizing Sora with an even greater intensity than before. "These are interesting questions to ask, Minami Sora,” he said, "but I’m afraid this conversation will have to wait until Preceptor Mai has a chance to thoroughly look through your paperwork… and we have the chance to conduct your test. In the meantime, you should rest. Sadako?” Sadako was vibrating, full to bursting with the anticipation of getting to watch all of this go down, but she knew an order when she heard one, even if it wasn’t precisely worded as such. She pushed off where she’d been leaning on the desk and backtracked to the door, waiting for Sora to follow… and halfway hoping she wouldn’t, that she would stay and demand answers to the questions that Sadako herself was deeply curious to know.

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[Sora Minami]

Struck a nerve with that one. Sora thought as she watched Akio’s face, noting the way his eyes narrowed when Sadako spoke her piece… and how they narrowed even further when she uttered her question. A quick glance from her to the retreating women was all she needed to know they hadn’t heard what she had said, and a look back at the older Takeda was enough for her to surmise he was glad they hadn’t. Then he tried to dismiss her, brushing aside her questions as interesting while he deflected the topic towards how little time they had to conduct her "test” (whatever that was) and she knew.

"Hold on, Sadako." She said, holding her left hand out, palm backwards, to indicate to the girl that she wasn’t to move just yet. There was a part of her, the quiet, storming mass of feeling burning beneath the cage of her will, that wanted nothing more than to grab the older man by the scruff of his neck and wring the answers out of him and wipe that condescending glare off his face. But she was a Jouin of Kirigakure, expected to show the honor and loyalty of her village even when not in it. Assaulting the elder of a prominent clan in Ame was about as far from being a good reflection of her home as she could get, short of perhaps trying to kill their Lord.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t push, if just a little.

"Give me his name." Sora said after a moment, gaze not leaving Akio’s, tone shifting down to something flat, hard, and sharp along the edges, as if she were a knife waiting to be drawn. If the Preceptor was particularly perceptive, he might notice the hint of pleading etched into her gaze- the tiniest crack in her otherwise perfect facade, a hint as to what her intentions were… and the only sign that there was anything more than an academic interest in her lineage. "I think I deserve that much for coming this far, even if I am wrong."

Please.

takeda sadako