SPARDA'S INVASION OF KIRI
His days always started slow. They didn't start late-- he awoke with the earliest riser in the group, which was to say at the crack of dawn. The early risers tended to prepare themselves quickly and leave early to do their duties. He would follow them in their rituals to a point, being of aid when he could, otherwise just providing company, a gentle reminder of steps they may have forgotten. He'd awake from his bunk...say hello to his men...and wish them a safe and plentiful day. The air in the mornings was cold, it always bit at his nose and clung to his skin. He always waited for the sun to warm the ground some before he braved the world.
It was part of his own private ritual. So many steps he'd learned in his all too short life, things designed to keep him healthy in body, soul, and mind. Ever since he was young, still on his mother's teat, he'd practiced certain techniques. It was an act of balance, an equalizer. He stuck to routine as often as he could, an upstart threatened much worse than a bad start to a day. Since before birth he'd suffered from a debilitating condition, something that made him different from his rambunctious squad members. If they could even be called that.
The Shadow Masters heart beat differently than others if at all. He'd known this almost as soon as he began to have conscious thought. His mother was a rock, her heart beat was steady and slow. As early as he could remember, he could remember sinking into the sound of it, wrapping himself in the comfort of her life-giving breath. Even now, he took every opportunity that presented itself to fall asleep with his head cradled against her bosom. The thought of seeming childish never entered his mind.
Each morning he sank into himself the way he had sunk into his mother. His breathing grew slow, controlled. Each breath was deep, filling his chest cavity to capacity. He held his breath for several seconds before slowly exhaling, looking inward. His heart beat was hollow... but still powered his body. The beats were slow...blank...and cold, the sound not as deep and robust as he yearned it to be. There was a slosh, always a worry, blood leaking from where it was meant to be. Every morning he felt unsettled. his heart was cold and the blood that ran through his veins was made of ice...but he would not let that change him. Not in the slightest.
He filled his mind with pure, intelligent thoughts. The sound of his past tormentors, his enemies. The sound of the Ninja he was forced to face as a ANBU, each unique, their beats as fast as their blades or their inquisitive minds. He focused, another deep breath, looked inward again. Slowly the beat of his heart leaned towards a more steady pace, calm energy pooled just above his gut. Around him, the sounds of his brothers in arms joining the world of the waking went ignored, his entire being preoccupied by maintaining the positive.
'This is me.' was the thought, 'And I can be as strong as I want.' His heart agreed, compromising on a steady if weak beat. Satisfied, he pulled himself back to the present, his breathing slowly returning to normal. His light violet eyes opened, greeting the warming sun that had peaked over the horizon and came shining through the windows of the compound. Those who were later to rise stirred all around him, going about their own personal rituals, and he joined them, seeing each off with a smile and wave of positiveness. When the last had lifted his heavy body from the frame of his lumpy bunk, his eyes stern and heavy as he twisted his body so his legs hung off the edge of his bed and his feet touching the floor where the sun had warmed the most.
He had a meeting to attend soon with the rest of his squad...apparently something of importance. He would rather attend a meeting then go through the Monday drills... Probably one of the reasons the soldier awoke earlier than everyone else...to prepare. To sharpen his senses before he was disturbed by the loud voices of the drill instructors. Then again it was all for rehabilitation. He had been out the game for a while so he understood they needed to keep him and his men on their toes. Sighing and bringing a hand to the back of his neck he rubbed along it gently and craned it side to side. Feeling his joints pop with age and physical stress the large man lifted himself from his bed and scanned the room as he did his morning stretches.
Ears flicked to the side at the sound of snoring around him… turning his head to see his buddy drooling on his pillow the man chuckled and he rolled his eyes as he pulled his duffel bag from under his bunk lazily and placed himself on the floor. Unzipping a compartment and pulling out a ball of white socks he unrolled them and slipped them on. Afterwards taking his black boots and putting them on he yawned as he got dressed and reached for his
Deciding to make way to his location, early he headed out the door. Grabbing his black leather fur jacket he put it on and placed his hands into his pockets as he walked down the grimy halls of the facility. Passing multiple doors and heading into the gates of The Hotel. On his way to the Hidden Mist Village fix what had been broken. God knew what he was planning now. But as long as he had his wits about him...he should be able to pull this off.
HOURS AFTER
Shadows stretched over the tall pines of the shadow valley as if to create a web of darkness. The trees echoed with the raw silence, other than the droplet of a single dewdrop from a red rose landing on a nearby pond. Near the pond, stood a young man with eyes of crimson blood. Staring at his reflection with a look of disgust and displeasure as if he were not pleased with something about himself. The man stood, growling and mumbling to his reflection. The lofty pines needles underneath his feet made the earth cool and spongy beneath his weight. The mans vision never left the pond as it glistened in the moonlight, turning it a variety of sharp colors. The turned his neck and cracked it softly. His eyes left the point and now were directed to the glittering stars overhead. "Darkness, guide me through this." He whispered bitterly to himself, lowering his head he sighed heavily and thought long and hard about something. His breath caught in his chest when sudden footsteps approached his position with a quickened pace. Shadows stirred as he immediately swung around, his shadow going crazy and swirling around him. His eyes searched the landscape for the source of the sound which had startled him.
There was a sudden stirring in the shadows and the lion felt his muscles tense underneath thin frame. Stealthily a black figure moved from the darkness of the trees, golden orange eyes flashed like amber as the figure came into the spotlight of the light. Sparda quickly realized the person was one of the shinobi who gave him his mission briefing, Joinin Clothing and snowy white hair... He relaxed himself and gave the ninja a look. "Your late...i thought Jonin where suppose to be punctual." Sparda teased, also wondering why he wasn't able to sense him before he arrived, he ignored the notion. Trying to settle the shadows around him as he awaited his answer. The ninja gave a respectful bow and Sparda returned it halfheartedly. He didn't notice.
"I guess...your really going through with this." He asked concerned. Sparda nodded. "What do you plan on doing sir?"
"The only thing i can do...negotiate." He replied at last sounding only mildly interested. He gave him another look, nodded, then turned away. and stalked off. As he did so he turned his head over her shoulder and smiled. Before heading off again with a nod. Smiling deviously Sparda chuckled lightly and looked to the side of him as he turned to face the entrance to The Dense Forest. "This is where the fun begins." He whispered, placing his hands into his pockets and stalking off into the forest to proceed with his mission. Walking to the entrance of the Hidden Mist Sparda placed his hands into his pocket and focused...game on.
WORD COUNT: 1434
