The ninja of Oto, Oborodzuki Uchiha awoke to a seemingly normal day despite the horriffic nightmares he was prone to experiencing each night. He was constantly invaded by the recesses of his subconscious, the souls of those he's slaughtered. Not once has he forgotten a name, a last word, or a final breath given by his victims. Those very moments were the building blocks of his inner guilt. Rather than allowing his fear of himself rule over, he embraced the complaints of those who had an issue with his antics. The cells existing within his brain tissue acted as padding, only allowing one thought to slip through the stream of disturbance at a time. And upon this fatal incident each and every day, he wakes with a smile on face, thin lips caressing the curves of his jaw. He felt nothing for those who were too weak to save themselves from the overwhelmingly powerful circle of life. Oboro himself understood that there would one day be a man stronger than he, one able to defeat him to appear. While this was his biggest fear, it also acted as his greatest inspiration. This single minded individuality of one separating himself from weakness drove him to achieve limits never seen by his own eyes before. His own body was at the epitome of visual perfection, sporting flawless muscle tone and clear skin. Though there were others out there capable of lifting infinitely more weight than he, he wuld not limit himself to such boundaries known as his body. His strength, mentally and physically would need to be able to surpass that of all others before his fear of weakness was fully eradicated.
Though that was of no immediate concern, he decided to address it. His current agenda was filled with millions of tiny details composing his day. A thousand steps would be taken all within his morning. However, Oboro was unable to start any day without giving himself an opportunity to bathe. While wearing nothing but boxer shorts, he made his way to his closet where he would grab a towel for his shower. Upon entering his haven, he would strip, revealing his pale yet defined body. As the hot, steamy liquid poured down on his skin, he found himself enjoying the luxury of cleanliness once more. His red hair soaked and fell to his eyes, nearly impairing his vision. He lathered his scalp with the usual hair works before cleansing his body with a rose petal scented soap. He was once again fresh and squeaky clean. As he stepped out from the tub, he gazed into the heavily clouded mirror, unable to see his own reflection. "Perhaps I truly am a vampire," He said to himself. The fogged up mirror provided more than a vision; it gave illusion. With his index finger, he placed his soft finger upon the glass. It was icy to the touch and smoother than the flesh that touched it. From there he began to write. "O- B- O- R- O- D- Z- U- K- I." While he rarely used his full name, this situation seemed inspirational. His name spelled before him, he wiped away his masterpiece with a single hand. A smile appeared upon his face as he made eye contact with himself, the vampire seemed to love himself. Though that wasn't it exactly, it was something deeper than that. It wasn't his own physical appearance that was enticing, rather his mental stature that he relied fully upon. It was something indescribably obvious, yet he was unable to put it into simple words.
From there he fixed himself a meal. Though it was rather simple, it would provide him with energy throughout the rest of his day. This held an important task force he would be meeting a squad mate for the first time. With no knowledge of his new mate due to Anbu identity exclusion, he was left out on a limb. He would hopefully be as strong as Oboro himself, though the Uchiha's expectations were not immensely high. He simply wanted a decent partner. His ideal partner would specialize in close range, seeing as how he himself covered the long range. The two would have a great amount of synergy. The Daimyo himself had a bit of medical specialization, so their squad would be complete with all intents and purposes. Without a fourth member of the squad, these three would still be able to conquer a large amount of active adversaries, providing a mortal endangerment to all that opposed. Otogakure would be in safe hands, at least for a while.
While his plans were generally fickle, he did indeed plan to protect the village with all of his might until a better opportunity came along. He would give his own soul before he let it perish. Though, his ultimate goal had still not changed; he needed to join the Akatsuki. He could imagine himself as a member so easily, sure that he would fit in. Though until that day arrived, his primary loyalty was with his squad, should they prove themselves useful. He wouldn't know what to do with himself if the other two proved themselves useless. He would likely assassinate them, allowing newer and hopefully stronger members to take their place. Naturally, that was indeed a last resort, fore he hoped he would never need take this option but rather marvel at the power of his new allies. Perhaps they would be capable of fascinating him with their power, though his hopes would remain low as to not overly excite himself.
After finishing his light meal he made his way to his wardrobe, deciding to wear his black tunic with yellow insignias along with his regular pair of white pantaloons and red shoes. He made his way to his bathroom once more and brushed his teeth with refined bristles. He then reached for his contact case, opened it and slowly placed the lenses on his eyeballs. The yellow lenses heavily coated his already sickly yellow eyes, cascading a deeper yellow shade. After blinking a few times, his contacts molded to his optical organs. While they provided no aid in his sight, they covered his sharingan, the doujutsu he refused to reveal to others. He would not allow his identity to fall into the knowledge of others. The Sharingan was an amazing power that many would crave should they see it up close. It wasn’t that it worried him, he feared no mortal man. It was with the inconvenience of having to kill all the imbeciles that would attempt to rob him for his power. He had no time to waste on the likes of them; fore he was much busier with other antics. Foolishness could only be rewarded with death. The likes of fools should not be given the chance to perceive such power within one being.
As a last sense of touching up, he placed his anbu mask on his face slowly. He then placed his armor over his tunic, realizing it completely ruined his fashion style. He would have to order a custom tunic with the same qualities of his armor. He really only wore it for protection seeing as it wasn’t too visually appearing. Though Anbu were required to wear armor as well as the mask, he hated it. The mask itself wasn’t so bad, but the one he was given upon starting was a bit bland and blank. He would need to redesign it as soon as possible, possibly adding pink tendrils to the cover symbolizing his efficiency with Bungee Gomu technique. It would be a bit of an ominous warning to those who didn’t understand the true capabilities of such a toolbox technique. It had a relatively infinite amount of uses and thus, he prided himself on it. He continued to find his mental track off course, and thus he made his way for the door as soon as he could. He pulled it closed behind him and locked it after doing so. He sprinted off into the direction of the Daimyo’s building, eager to meet his new partner. He had no clue what he would find upon his arrival, though the possibility of his friend rested in this man.
His feet thrust him forward as he runs through the town that he refers to as his home, Otogakure. While this village was considerably smaller than the big five, it wasn’t a bad place to live. Being number six wasn’t bad at all. Though he may have wished for a bit more, this wasn’t a bad place to grow up. As he ran through the town, he was reminded of his childhood; memories fluttered through his mind. He ran past the old Uchiha clan building which still had not been torn down and served as a constant reminder of his murders. To this day, he did not regret his actions and smiled to himself as he thought of that night. He proved his dominance over the rest of his clan, proving his power to the world. He silently massacred his older brother and sister. He still possessed his sister’s eyes, though they served no use to anyone. She never activated her sharingan and thus, they are relatively useless. They were transplantable so he merely kept them around to gaze at and act as if they were gazing back into his own soul. They served a stronger reminder of his actions than the vacated building attempted to do. It only stirred up old feelings of weakness in his body as he stopped to gawk at it.
The building itself was looking extremely run down. Many of the windows were shattered and the green around it was beginning to overgrow into the former home, acting as an allusion to invading. The status of his house was fitting for those that were killed there. A man walking along the street noticed Oboro gazing at the building before beginning to make conversation with him. “Amazing isn’t it?” He said before pointing at the Uchiha crest, a red and white fan, on the door. “All of the Uchiha other than the youngest were slaughtered there. He too ran away and is assumed dead now. How could such a tragedy happen right under our noses?” He shook his head as he continued down the street. Oboro chuckled to himself before continuing his venture to the Daimyo’s building. So heartless was this man of the moon. Lives that were of no value to him had no value. They were more than worthless, they were a true nuisance. Having to see something squirm, well that was just a pity in the eyes of the Uchiha masochist
He walked now rather than running, the building in near sight. Guards waited outside as usual, checking those who wished to enter the building. At the sight of Oboro’s mask, they allowed him in. Imbeciles , he thought to himself. An intruder could easily disguise himself as a member of the Anbu and infiltrate the building without much resistance. It was a good thing the Anbu was generally always present. Though if anyone within the ranks wished to kill the Daimyo, it wouldn’t be too difficult: poison would likely suffice in taking him out. While the Anbu themselves were supposed to trust no one other than the Daimyo, ninja had a tendency to band together and form allegiances with each other stronger than the orders of which they had been commanded previously. Oftentimes, people would choose their allies over a mission. Oboro had no real preference or opinion on the matter because he would simply choose whichever option benefitted him the most. That was really his sole intentions when it came to anything. Whatever gave him a greater edge on the situation would always be the one he would choose.
He waited in the office for his partner to show up with his own mask, though either Oboro was early or his new ally was late. The Uchiha couldn’t tell. He sat in a comfortable chair and tapped his foot lightly as rested his hand on his chin and thought of the past that made him into the monster that he was today. Would his new friend see through him?
Though that was of no immediate concern, he decided to address it. His current agenda was filled with millions of tiny details composing his day. A thousand steps would be taken all within his morning. However, Oboro was unable to start any day without giving himself an opportunity to bathe. While wearing nothing but boxer shorts, he made his way to his closet where he would grab a towel for his shower. Upon entering his haven, he would strip, revealing his pale yet defined body. As the hot, steamy liquid poured down on his skin, he found himself enjoying the luxury of cleanliness once more. His red hair soaked and fell to his eyes, nearly impairing his vision. He lathered his scalp with the usual hair works before cleansing his body with a rose petal scented soap. He was once again fresh and squeaky clean. As he stepped out from the tub, he gazed into the heavily clouded mirror, unable to see his own reflection. "Perhaps I truly am a vampire," He said to himself. The fogged up mirror provided more than a vision; it gave illusion. With his index finger, he placed his soft finger upon the glass. It was icy to the touch and smoother than the flesh that touched it. From there he began to write. "O- B- O- R- O- D- Z- U- K- I." While he rarely used his full name, this situation seemed inspirational. His name spelled before him, he wiped away his masterpiece with a single hand. A smile appeared upon his face as he made eye contact with himself, the vampire seemed to love himself. Though that wasn't it exactly, it was something deeper than that. It wasn't his own physical appearance that was enticing, rather his mental stature that he relied fully upon. It was something indescribably obvious, yet he was unable to put it into simple words.
From there he fixed himself a meal. Though it was rather simple, it would provide him with energy throughout the rest of his day. This held an important task force he would be meeting a squad mate for the first time. With no knowledge of his new mate due to Anbu identity exclusion, he was left out on a limb. He would hopefully be as strong as Oboro himself, though the Uchiha's expectations were not immensely high. He simply wanted a decent partner. His ideal partner would specialize in close range, seeing as how he himself covered the long range. The two would have a great amount of synergy. The Daimyo himself had a bit of medical specialization, so their squad would be complete with all intents and purposes. Without a fourth member of the squad, these three would still be able to conquer a large amount of active adversaries, providing a mortal endangerment to all that opposed. Otogakure would be in safe hands, at least for a while.
While his plans were generally fickle, he did indeed plan to protect the village with all of his might until a better opportunity came along. He would give his own soul before he let it perish. Though, his ultimate goal had still not changed; he needed to join the Akatsuki. He could imagine himself as a member so easily, sure that he would fit in. Though until that day arrived, his primary loyalty was with his squad, should they prove themselves useful. He wouldn't know what to do with himself if the other two proved themselves useless. He would likely assassinate them, allowing newer and hopefully stronger members to take their place. Naturally, that was indeed a last resort, fore he hoped he would never need take this option but rather marvel at the power of his new allies. Perhaps they would be capable of fascinating him with their power, though his hopes would remain low as to not overly excite himself.
After finishing his light meal he made his way to his wardrobe, deciding to wear his black tunic with yellow insignias along with his regular pair of white pantaloons and red shoes. He made his way to his bathroom once more and brushed his teeth with refined bristles. He then reached for his contact case, opened it and slowly placed the lenses on his eyeballs. The yellow lenses heavily coated his already sickly yellow eyes, cascading a deeper yellow shade. After blinking a few times, his contacts molded to his optical organs. While they provided no aid in his sight, they covered his sharingan, the doujutsu he refused to reveal to others. He would not allow his identity to fall into the knowledge of others. The Sharingan was an amazing power that many would crave should they see it up close. It wasn’t that it worried him, he feared no mortal man. It was with the inconvenience of having to kill all the imbeciles that would attempt to rob him for his power. He had no time to waste on the likes of them; fore he was much busier with other antics. Foolishness could only be rewarded with death. The likes of fools should not be given the chance to perceive such power within one being.
As a last sense of touching up, he placed his anbu mask on his face slowly. He then placed his armor over his tunic, realizing it completely ruined his fashion style. He would have to order a custom tunic with the same qualities of his armor. He really only wore it for protection seeing as it wasn’t too visually appearing. Though Anbu were required to wear armor as well as the mask, he hated it. The mask itself wasn’t so bad, but the one he was given upon starting was a bit bland and blank. He would need to redesign it as soon as possible, possibly adding pink tendrils to the cover symbolizing his efficiency with Bungee Gomu technique. It would be a bit of an ominous warning to those who didn’t understand the true capabilities of such a toolbox technique. It had a relatively infinite amount of uses and thus, he prided himself on it. He continued to find his mental track off course, and thus he made his way for the door as soon as he could. He pulled it closed behind him and locked it after doing so. He sprinted off into the direction of the Daimyo’s building, eager to meet his new partner. He had no clue what he would find upon his arrival, though the possibility of his friend rested in this man.
His feet thrust him forward as he runs through the town that he refers to as his home, Otogakure. While this village was considerably smaller than the big five, it wasn’t a bad place to live. Being number six wasn’t bad at all. Though he may have wished for a bit more, this wasn’t a bad place to grow up. As he ran through the town, he was reminded of his childhood; memories fluttered through his mind. He ran past the old Uchiha clan building which still had not been torn down and served as a constant reminder of his murders. To this day, he did not regret his actions and smiled to himself as he thought of that night. He proved his dominance over the rest of his clan, proving his power to the world. He silently massacred his older brother and sister. He still possessed his sister’s eyes, though they served no use to anyone. She never activated her sharingan and thus, they are relatively useless. They were transplantable so he merely kept them around to gaze at and act as if they were gazing back into his own soul. They served a stronger reminder of his actions than the vacated building attempted to do. It only stirred up old feelings of weakness in his body as he stopped to gawk at it.
The building itself was looking extremely run down. Many of the windows were shattered and the green around it was beginning to overgrow into the former home, acting as an allusion to invading. The status of his house was fitting for those that were killed there. A man walking along the street noticed Oboro gazing at the building before beginning to make conversation with him. “Amazing isn’t it?” He said before pointing at the Uchiha crest, a red and white fan, on the door. “All of the Uchiha other than the youngest were slaughtered there. He too ran away and is assumed dead now. How could such a tragedy happen right under our noses?” He shook his head as he continued down the street. Oboro chuckled to himself before continuing his venture to the Daimyo’s building. So heartless was this man of the moon. Lives that were of no value to him had no value. They were more than worthless, they were a true nuisance. Having to see something squirm, well that was just a pity in the eyes of the Uchiha masochist
He walked now rather than running, the building in near sight. Guards waited outside as usual, checking those who wished to enter the building. At the sight of Oboro’s mask, they allowed him in. Imbeciles , he thought to himself. An intruder could easily disguise himself as a member of the Anbu and infiltrate the building without much resistance. It was a good thing the Anbu was generally always present. Though if anyone within the ranks wished to kill the Daimyo, it wouldn’t be too difficult: poison would likely suffice in taking him out. While the Anbu themselves were supposed to trust no one other than the Daimyo, ninja had a tendency to band together and form allegiances with each other stronger than the orders of which they had been commanded previously. Oftentimes, people would choose their allies over a mission. Oboro had no real preference or opinion on the matter because he would simply choose whichever option benefitted him the most. That was really his sole intentions when it came to anything. Whatever gave him a greater edge on the situation would always be the one he would choose.
He waited in the office for his partner to show up with his own mask, though either Oboro was early or his new ally was late. The Uchiha couldn’t tell. He sat in a comfortable chair and tapped his foot lightly as rested his hand on his chin and thought of the past that made him into the monster that he was today. Would his new friend see through him?